


Tron: Liberation

by saratogaroad



Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Uprising
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Continuation, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 106,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saratogaroad/pseuds/saratogaroad
Summary: The Game has changed. The Revolution has begun. With Tron healed and once more in the fight for the Grid, the war has begun. But Clu will not give up so easily, and this is a war that will be fought in the streets. But it is a war that Beck and Tron intend to win, so long as they can do one thing first:Survive.[AU: Fanmade Season 2]





	1. 00110001

**Author's Note:**

> Tron and all recognizable characters (c) Disney. Tron: Liberation and any original characters (c) saratogaroad. Any and all resemblance to already published works or characters completely coincidental.
> 
> Big huge thanks to my dear friend Myki; this wouldn't have happened without your help. I look forward to hearing you squeal. /cackles

Standing on the rubble high above what had once been the empty Plaza outside of Able’s Garage, Tron took a moment to breathe. To take in the hope building in his processor, and for the first time in a long time, not temper it with caution. Against all odds, they had succeeded. The mobile repurposer lay in pieces across the Plaza, Beck was alive, and the Uprising had truly begun.

And Tron himself felt free for the first time in over a five hundred cycles. Free of pain, of exhaustion that had chased his every binary string, and free of the fear that Clu would have him. His core, the stuttering feeling he’d gotten so very used to, ran smoothly with each stabilizing breath. He felt himself again. Whole again. 

And he had Beck to thank for it. Brave, foolhardy, stubborn, strong Beck. Barely out of Beta and with so much potential already. Pride curled in Tron’s core as he looked down the rubble, down into the Plaza. Though some talked amongst themselves, the programs below—all fifty-eight of them—stared up the rubble towards "Tron” and his Renegade cohort. Mara, fists on her hips, stared them down as if trying to will them down through the sheer force of her glare. Since they were too high up to be seen clearly, Tron smiled faintly. 

“Remember how I told you she’d still be here when you were ready?” he asked quietly, sensing more than seeing Beck look at him. “Looks like she wants you to be ready.”

As curiosity turned to a severely unimpressed look, Beck rolled his eyes. “Very funny.” He deadpanned. Tron’s smile widened a touch; for all he’d accomplished, Beck was still very much a beta. Young, foolhardy, but braver than most would have thought possible. Except, it seemed, when faced with the reality that he was going to have to lie to all of his coworkers. Again. Rezzing his helmet with a few quiet clicks, Tron gestured down the crowd.

“Come on, Tron. We need to get them out of here before Pavel comes back with reinforcements.”

He stepped forward, hearing Beck’s soft groan and the click of his helmet as his protege made to follow, but had to reach out quickly as the young program stumbled, a peripheral circuit on his leg flickering and almost disappearing into the bright whites of his suit. A clear sign of low energy if he’d ever seen one. 

“You alright?” He asked softly, modulated voice echoing in his helmet. Beck nodded.

“Yeah.” Steadying himself on Tron’s arm, he stood and shook out his leg. With another flicker, the circuit’s light stabilized. “Let’s go.”

Behind his visor, Tron narrowed his eyes as Beck began the perilous journey back down to the plaza. It had been a long millicycle for them both, but where he’d been replenished in the repurposing chamber, Beck hadn’t been. And then the crash…his energy levels had to be low. But there was no time to ask after that, and Beck hadn’t come this far to be coddled every time he ran low. He knew his limits. As soon as they could, he’d put down for a sleep cycle and that would be the end of it. Shoving the concern into his low priority queue, Tron followed his apprentice down, remaining a pace behind when they finally reached the ground. Mara, still looking as angry as Yori ever had, stalked towards them. To his credit, Beck held his ground as she opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped as a sudden rumbling began to shake the ground. Everyone looked around, searching for the cause as they battled the instinct to take shelter. Some programs fell, unable to keep their footing, while others cried out in alarm.

“What is that?!” Mara yelled, Beck having reached out to take her arms and keep her on her feet. He couldn’t answer, not knowing, but as Tron looked out to the Sea his core ground to a halt. The rumbling, continuing to get worse, could only be caused by one thing at that moment in time.

The massive fleet approaching Argon from the north.

It was impossible to tell just how many ships there really were, but even from where Tron stood he could count the rows of Recognizers, the Carriers and Rectifiers. The Grid Herself was trembling, that’s what the rumbling was. Programs shouted in alarm, clinging to one another as the first ships cleared the city line and flew overhead, casting the entire Plaza into shadow. Tron glared up at a yellow lined ship, the eyesore a stark difference against Argon’s calm blue landscape, and the anger began to spin his core back up, faster and faster until all that was left was rage. His spine went stiff, fists clenched at his sides. 

“Clu,” He breathed, circuits flaring in his anger. 

Beck shook his head slowly. “Clu’s army.” He looked away from the fleet and back down to the crowd of programs all backing away from the rubble and towards the Garage that had once been their home. Only now Pavel controlled it. They couldn’t go back and they couldn’t go forward. Tron barely had time to look back down before the roar of engines broke into the plaza, mechanics skittering back and into one another in their haste to get away. The bikes rolled in two lines, numbers adding up until there were enough programs to encircle them and keep them contained.

Keep them surrounded, even as each solder got off his bike with disk in hand. They ignored the fleet passing by overhead as if it was normal, standing as if they were statues. Tron’s eyes narrowed as Beck let go of Mara, drawing his disk as he stood back to back with Tron.

“Ever fight this many?” He asked quietly, barely heard over the rumble as Mara held her ground, fists out in front of her as if that would hold the soldiers back. He had to give her a bit for trying.

“Not at once,” Tron replied, disk glowing in his hand. The soldiers stood tall, a wall around them and any hope of escape. But none of them moved, and Tron frowned. What were they waiting for? They had to know that neither Beck nor Tron would go without a fight, even under odds like this. Behind him, Beck shifted his weight. The mechanics clung to one another, no one daring to twitch as the line of soldiers parted. With a sneer on his face, Pavel took two steps in. For a program that had run the other direction just micros before, he seemed to have recovered his nerve. Mara took a step towards him, but Tron reached out and grabbed her wrist, jerking her to a halt before Beck could react.

“Surrender, programs,” Pavel sneered at them all, hands clasped behind his back. Tron tightened his grip on Mara’s arm as she tensed. “Come quietly and maybe the esteemed General Tesler will—” 

He couldn’t finish. With a scream loud enough to make Tron’s audio inputs ring, Mara wrenched against his hold. She wasn’t strong enough to pull herself free, but she didn’t need to. Quick as a flash she grabbed at her disk with her free hand, the edge flaring Portal-bright even as she threw it directly at Pavel’s head. It was a wide, sloppy throw and the Commander ducked, the white streak of light curving above his head. It arced back into Mara’s hand and she glared at him.

“We’ll never surrender to you!” She spat, disk revving hot. Pavel blinked but then looked across the group as, one by one, the other programs drew their disks and flared them to life. Fifty-nine against all the guards would never be a fair fight, but their message was clear.

They would not be going quietly. Pavel’s surprised look fell into a cold stare. He turned to the nearest sentry.

“Destroy them all.”

And then he stepped back, leaving the sentries and soldiers to close ranks around the motley crew. They all held their ground despite shaking hands and knocking knees, standing shoulder to shoulder with their fellows. Tron let go of Mara’s wrist and she stepped aside, closer to her friends, with her disk in hand. She raised it into a defensive stance, the soldiers booted footsteps echoing as they marched closer, one measured step at a time. Tron stepped forward instead, and saw Beck do the same from the corner of his eye. He’d been on site for several fights that had seemed hopeless but had proven winnable in the end. This wasn’t one of them. 

This wasn’t going to be a fight. No. It was going to be a massacre. He looked back just enough to catch Beck’s eye through their darkened visors. For half a nano Beck held his stance, didn’t so much as move…but then he nodded, just once. 

And then he was gone, rushing forward in a blur of fists and feet, dual-colored disk clashing with a soldier’s in a shower of sparks. Turning away, Tron sprang forward with a growl. Someone shouted in alarm behind him but he paid them no mind as he threw himself between Mara and a soldier, catching the soldier’s disk on his own in a clash of sparks. The program startled, clearly one of the Argon contingent that had grown complacent and sloppy over the cycles of fighting Beck and his more ranged tactics, his refusal to derezz programs. It was clear that they were not prepared for Tron and his more direct approach. 

With a wordless cry, Tron shifted his stance and kicked out with one foot, knocking the guard back into his fellows. Tron smirked as several more stared at him, but in the seconds that they didn’t know how to react he had already turned to Mara.

“Get your programs out of here! We’ll cover you!”

And then he turned back, ignoring their shouts of alarm as he raced forward. These programs, willful as they were, couldn’t fight the way he could. He and Beck would have to do it for them. Ahead of him, one guard called out an order—”Halt, Program!”— that died in his throat as Tron’s disk cleaved through the space between them to cut through his torso, breaking the circle that had surrounded them. As the voxels of their fallen fellow tumbled to the ground, the closest four yelled at him to stop, to surrender, but he was in no hurry to do that. He altered his course, skidding on one foot, and ran right at them, leaping to catch his disk as it returned to his hand. Suddenly aware that he wasn’t going to stop, one guard grabbed the staff from his leg and tried to hold off Tron’s advance, but it was no use. He pushed off on the landing, leaping into the air again to land on the staff, and then jumped to cleave his disk straight into the guards head. His fellows stepped back, hesitant. Tron smirked.

Behind him, taking advantage of the distraction and the opening, Mara had made a run for the Garage with three programs right behind her. Their friend—Zed—called after them, but his hands were full with a guard of his own that had pressed in from the other side of the circle. He was already stumbling back, but before he could slip Beck moved between them, catching the guards disk with barely a stumble. Zed heaved a heavy sigh as he wobbled clear, returning to his fellows to usher them out the gap that lingered in the line of soldiers while they were distracted, and Beck made quick work of knocking his target to the ground. The soldier impacted port-first and went still, lines flickering and limbs twitching from the sudden shut down, but Beck was already moving. Tron watched from the corner of his eye as he dove under a guards swing, knocking knees out and slamming another into the ground on his way. 

Face hidden, Tron let himself smirk: Beck had the matter well in hand. Without another look back, Tron charged forward with a cry, leaping over the head of one guard he drove his disk into the guards neck, severing it from his body, before turning away. One particularly brave guard swung at Tron with a staff in an attempt to succeed where his comrade had failed, but Tron leaped, using the staff as a launch pad to throw his disk from the air. Four guards, including the one that had swung at him, collapsed into voxels with shouts of alarm and pain. Tron landed among the rubble in a crouch, mindlessly catching his disk as it came back to him. Already so many had fallen, but more still were coming. He could feel them approaching through the Grid, the thunder-rumble of more bikes and the hissing roar of lightjets overhead. Restored as he was, even he couldn’t fight forever. Not defending this many programs. They had to go. Teeth bared in an unseen snarl, Tron shoved himself to his feet and scooped up a red-lined disk from the mess on the ground, feeling the security code make the connection with his old routines like it had always been a part of him. The rim flared bright, blinding in the reflection of the guards helmets as he came at them like a storm. With two disks in his hands, the guards stood no chance. They tried, screaming and yelling to fall back, but he gave them no quarter. They had no chance to react, let alone run, from the two disks he threw to cleave through air and code alike. One fell, followed by another and then another, but for every two that fell there were another three to take their place. 

Suddenly, Beck crashed into his back with a grunt. They both stumbled, but Tron quickly shifted his weight to keep them upright. Overhead, lightjets were dropping off their red-lined cargo, dozens upon dozens of soldiers. The only comfort was that the last program from the garage had returned to the building, the emergency shutters dropping with a screech and a clatter. Two soldiers derezzed under it, but Tron’s eyes were on the crowd around them. Stolen disk revving loudly in his hand, he watched the soldiers turn their attention as Beck shook his head.

“This isn’t working. There’s too many!” Beck gasped. Tron could feel him move, feel him look up and knew the number of soldiers he’d find. Beck’s whispered curse was answer enough. Tron narrowed his eyes. 

“Where’s the nearest tunnel entrance?” He asked quietly, barely a whisper. Beck turned his head enough, and this close he could make out his frown. 

“Under the garage. You don’t think—”

“It’s our best chance to get them back to the Outlands.” Even if he didn’t like it. He knew there was no way to fight these odds. The soldiers stalked closer, footsteps melding into a sound he’d last heard in his nightmares. Fighting to dislodge the memory, Tron shifted his stance. “Go. I’ll cover you.”

Beck was silent. But then he shook his head and stepped away, disk in one hand and a baton in the other.

“No.” He said firmly. Tron could barely look back before he continued, “It’s Tron they’re after. And it’s Tron they’ll get.”

Before Tron could process that, Beck was moving. He raced past Tron, dove right through the line of guards, and took off. He rolled beneath one guards attempt at a grab, pushing himself back to his feet and cracking the baton in the same instant. Code spread wide, knocking guards away as a lightjet rezzed. Beck looked back for one nano, an instant where Tron realized what he was doing.

“Wait—!”

“I’ll take care of this!”

With the whoosh of a pushed engine, Beck took to the sky. Dozens of guards followed right on his tail, rezzing their own jets and taking off in instants. About half of them joined the chase and the pursuit shifted, newly arriving lightjets taking off after Beck instead of dropping their pilots onto Tron’s head, but there were still too many lingering and coming after him! Already he could feel the exhaustion beginning to creep in, the fear that this would be a repeat of the coup so very long ago catching in his core even as he kicked a guard off his disks and flung him into his comrades. Their numbers must have been in the hundreds by now, and they just kept coming!

But then a noise came from the garage: the sound of a tank preparing to fire. Risking a look, he turned his head and stared as a blue-lined tank rumbled from the once again open garage and into the plaza, Mara perched half in the cockpit and half out. Despite her darkened visor she raised her head to glare at the guards, calling out as the tank rolled towards them.

“Get down!”

He had only seconds to react. He ducked, the blast rocketing overhead and impacting the numerous programs still in the plaza. With a burst of light and dozens of screams, they were reduced to nothing more than cubes. But even with that group falling, more came up from behind, angry and ready to derezz in a nano. Cursing, Tron dropped the stolen disk, docking his own as he ran for the tank, leaping up to the cockpit to grab Mara’s arm.

“Time to go!” He yelled, pulling her free. She cried out in alarm, the tank still rolling forward as he leapt back down to the ground. He rolled, forcing her back to her feet and to run as the tank, slow going and easy to dodge, barely slowed the guards down. He had to give her some credit: it didn’t take long for her to get the picture and she ran, boots clicking on the ground as she surged ahead to take the lead, grabbing a baton from a shelf and throwing it at him. Behind them, the tank gave way with a ground-rattling explosion that knocked programs from their feet in the same instant it made Tron’s core lurch. They were too close! Soldiers shouted for them to stop, to halt and submit, but then they went quiet. Tron turned, risking a look over his shoulder, only to find that the soldiers were now bolting in the opposite direction, back the way they’d come. 

It made him stop. Mara skidded to a halt just out of reach and looked at him, startled. He didn’t look at her, but instead at the soldiers. Something was wrong, but what—the sound of a recognizer’s thrusters made him look up, just in time to see a single recognizer looming above the garage. Bright blue energy pooled between its thrusters, gathering like a storm cloud. Tron’s core froze for just a moment as he realized what was about to happen. Quickly docking his baton he lunged at Mara, knocking them both behind a repair station that still had a bike on it. She yelled in alarm, but there was no time to explain. Her cry echoed in the last instant before the Recognizer fired its horrible payload directly into the Garage. The skylights shattered, raining melting bits of glass and code around their shoulders. The lines supporting repaired jets and choppers snapped and gave way, code crashing to the ground to shatter into cubes. Mara yelled into his shoulder as he held her down, covering her as best he could. For a nano, the Grid seemed to hang. He knew what was about to happen, and was powerless to stop it. The great ball of blue energy hung above the floor for only a nano, the barest hint of an instant. Everything was clear.

And then it wasn’t. The moment passed and the shot struck home. The heat came first, then a blastwave that rattled the very airspace around it. Everything toppled, walls and personal items and docked transport units in need of repair. Soldiers that hadn’t gotten clear in time shouted in alarm or pain, falling to the ground or just plain knocked silly. With a massive plume of code dust and the screeching sound of shattering glass, Able’s garage began to collapse in on itself. Walls gave way into the now exposed tunnels; what floor that wasn’t immediately destroyed fell away and took programs with it. Lost in the destruction, Tron and Mara fell. Mara clung to his shoulders, desperate and afraid, and he didn’t try to dislodge her. Her scream and the shouts of the soldiers echoed around him, caught in his audio input as errors that he couldn’t fix. They were falling, falling, falling--

Something impacted his port. His system, overloaded, went into emergency shutdown mode.

Everything went mercifully dark.

——

If there was one thing Beck had to say about the guards of Argon City, it was that they were persistent. Three dozen lightjets had followed after him, half the force that had remained in the plaza after the massacre of their forces, and though they’d lost a dozen of their own to his fancy flying and lightwall, they stayed on his tail as best they could. Not that it was working very well for most of them; he knew the skies here, knew the towers and how to use them to his advantage. It wasn’t quite as protective as the canyon walls outside the city, and more than a couple of shots hit into buildings as he flew between them, but it would do.

Or at least, he thought as much. Quick as a flash, they dodged away only to be replaced by a squad of golden-lined jets. Not the yellow of the lead ship, but a warmer shade of yellow marked the jets that immediately opened fire, prompting him to dive and roll away. They were new! Chancing a look back over his shoulder, Beck frowned. It was hard to tell from this distance, and he had no desire to let them get closer, but it looked like all the pilots of those jets wore the same pattern. He’d only ever seen the Sirens share patterns before. So how had—it didn’t matter. Rolling again to avoid a hail of laser fire, Beck pushed on his thrusters as far as the controls would go, a burst of speed sending him out across the city. The golden jets stayed on him, dogging his every move and easily dodging his light wall. Where Argon’s guards would have turned away and gone around, these stayed on his tail, easily flying above or below to avoid crashing whilst keeping him in their sights.

So. They were smarter than Argon’s usual crop of guards. Alright, fine. He could play at that game.

Gritting his teeth, Beck banked hard, turning over a familiar section of the entertainment district. The towers were shorter here, not as easy to lose following jets in between sharp rises and harsh corners, but there was more room to maneuver and—something screamed nearby, a warning if he’d ever heard one. It caught in his audio processes, almost painful, and he jerked back on the controls in response, just in time to catch a blast of energy rocketing past. That hadn’t come from one of the jets, had it? In sheer vertical, he risked a look back. No, not from them, but from the command ship of the convoy! Its Mara-yellow accent lines flared from wingtip to stern as energy gathered at its tip, another screaming blast firing in his direction. With a panicked yell he jerked his control stick to the side, sending his jet into a sharp roll. He could feel the heat of the blast as it singed his wingtips, the four golden-lined guards quickly rolling their jets clear behind him. Though he was vaguely aware of the blast hitting one of the local towers, Beck was a bit too busy trying to level his jet to care. For a corestopping nano, it almost refused to stop spinning, but then it did and he heaved a sigh of relief, taking one quick moment to duck his head and look down.

In the end, that one movement likely saved his skin. It gave him the warning that he was about to be hit from below, and gave him the time he needed to jerk his controls back up, pulling the belly of his jet straight vertical as Pavel blew past him, the crazed program’s cackle echoing back at him. With a curse Beck threw his jet back into horizontal and poured on the speed, ducking through a gap between two buildings. He knew this city. If he could just get to the industrial sector, he could lose Pavel there. Considering how quickly the other program was chasing him, he’d need every second of lead he could get.

Of course, that was if he didn’t crash right into the fleet on his way there! How they’d moved so fast, Beck would never know, but as he came back out of the gap he had to send his jet into a dive to avoid the yellow-lined ship, his light wall cutting a slice into her belly as he flew so close he could have reached up and touched the ship. More light-jets peeled off to follow him, but Pavel was the one right on his tail, guns firing rapidly. Beck rolled, trying to make himself less of a target, but Pavel was smarter than most of the sentries and he knew how to aim.

Credit had to be given where credit was due: the Light Jets were fast, nimble, and maneuverable. They were not, however, durable. Only one of Pavel’s shots hit Beck’s engine, but that one shot was enough that the motor gave way and turned into sparkling cubes. Beck cursed hard, hard enough that Able would have grounded him, as his jet began to bank. Without the power from both wing engines he also slowed, and it was enough that Pavel crashed right into him. In a network of tinkling cubes, their jets became an odd three-winged vehicle. Pavel’s cackle was loud enough to drown out the keening sound in his audio even as he scrambled up from his controls and across, swinging his revving disk wide. Beck ducked with a hissed curse, curling to launch a kick into Pavel’s middle. The commander stumbled back, nearly fell over his cockpit, and Beck took advantage of the reprieve to leap from his controls and bring his disk up. Pavel charged again, and they clashed in the middle of their odd conglomeration of a jet. Sparks fell, lighting up Pavel’s sneering face.

“End of the line, Renegade!” He whispered cruelly. Beck’s eyes narrowed.

“Not for me, it’s not.” He shoved Pavel back as hard as he could manage, sending him stumbling again. The motion rocked the craft, and with a horrible cracking noise, the jets disconnected. With twin yells of alarm, both programs fell from the joined wing and towards the rooftop below. It was only a few seconds before Pavel impacted first, a frame-rattling thud knocking the sense from his processor. Beck barely had time to crouch and roll, every joint screaming in protest. He struggled to his hands and knees, blinking away damage warnings and quickly palming his disk. By the Grid, that had hurt. Everything ached now but there was no time to sit and nurse his wounds. Pavel was somehow getting back to his feet, yelling at the red-lined jets flying overhead.

“Stay out of this!” He shouted, disk a blazing beacon in one hand, “He’s mine!”

Clearly unwilling to risk becoming targets themselves, the red-lined jets peeled off back towards the city. In the same instant, Beck and Pavel stood up on the roof and stared each other down. The moment lasted only a nano, and then they were at each other once more. Orange met white, disks a blur of light and sparks as they clashed, dancing around the roof and barely keeping away from the edge. Flipping back from a strike, Beck barely had time to react. Pavel was just as fast as he remembered, and nearly as strong. 

“I turn you in, and just think of the rewards I'll get!" Pavel shrieked, coming after him again and again. They almost danced, pivoting and spinning across the rooftop as if they had all the time in the world. Overhead, dozens of lightjets continued to race across the city, combing the streets for anyone who was still outside. None landed on the rooftop, even as Pavel leapt into the air and spun, both feet impacting Beck’s raised disk in a solid kick. The momentum sent him stumbling backwards, and Pavel lunged at him. There was no time to react: with a shout of alarm, Beck went down hard. He scrambled, getting his disk in both hands just in time to catch Pavel’s attempt at thrusting his own disk through Beck’s chest. The edges ground against one another, but even so Pavel ignored the sparks and leaned in close, almost touching Beck’s visor with his nose as he spoke.

“Your friends aren’t here, Renegade!” Pavel sneered at him, face close enough that he could count the jagged lines around the edges of a gash on Pavel’s cheek. “You’re all alone.”

“That’s good enough to take you down!” Beck retorted, kicking one knee up right into Pavel’s abdomen. The sudden attack made him jolt and stumble back, dislodging his disk and allowing Beck to knock an open-palmed strike into Pavel’s chin. Without his helmet, the Commander had left himself an easier target and stumbled back with a yelp of pain. Beck scrambled to his feet, quickly retaking his stance. Pavel shook himself, smearing a line of internal code off his chin, and raised his disk over his head for another attack. Beck stepped aside, circuits flickering for a moment. He had to end his, and fast. He stepped back in a wide circle, dodging more swipes than he crashed with. Pavel shouted in annoyance, coming after his target faster and faster, with wider and wider strikes, leaving himself open before he could strike again.

Beck didn’t waste his chance. Stepping back to the edge of the roof, he held his disk in a ready stance and waited. Pavel fell right for it, taking his disk in both hands and raising it over his head. He shouted in triumph and lunged forward, but in one smooth motion Beck sidestepped the overhead swing and thrust his elbow right into Pavel’s port. As with all programs, the pain of a port-strike would activate an emergency shut down and quickly disable all motion. It was a cheap move, one Beck hated using, but he didn’t have it in him to drag this fight out any longer.

And really, against a program like Pavel, he wouldn’t let it keep him out of sleep mode for too long. It worked, too, and with a screech Pavel went down like a sack of broken code scraps. Beck caught him by the arm at the last moment, hauling him back onto the roof before dropping him. Sure enough, the red-orange lines that marked him as Occupation had gone dim, his eyes closed and mouth hanging open. It wouldn’t last for long, just a few micros, but that would be enough for Beck to put some distance between him and the rooftop. Beck didn’t waste his chance, quickly docking his disk and running for the stairs that ran alongside the building. He took them two at a time, the metal vibrating beneath his boots and the splash of a puddle on the alley below as he hit the ground and kept running. 

The alley, at least, was empty. Argon’s twisting network of alleys could get a program anywhere they needed to go, if they knew where they were going. Beck knew where he was going, being a native of the city and having had time to study Tron’s maps, but he was flagging. As the seconds ticked past, what energy he’d had left from the millis events began to disappear. He slowed, gasping for breath, and leaned against the wall of a building. He needed to find a bike, hit the tunnels, and meet Tron in the Spire. If they’d made it there, then—

The sound of a shot, loud and close, echoed through the alleys. Beck startled, whirled around, but no. There was no one behind him. He hadn’t been fired on. But then what…he turned back around, looked up, and felt his core grind to a halt. From this alley, he could see clear to the Plaza. To the Garage, and the Recognizer perched above it. Even from this distance he could see the energy shot, nearly half the size of the Recognizer, as it roared into the Garage. His core froze as the shot struck home, the explosion audible even halfway across the city as the blast wave rushed into the plaza, and with a massive plume of code dust, the Garage collapsed in on itself. It buckled and swayed, the roof going first, and then the walls. Everything gave way in barely a micro, all of Able’s hard work collapsing into nothing. 

If there had been anyone still inside, they were gone now. Beck stared, barely able to process what he was seeing. 

“No…” He felt more than heard himself whisper, taking a few shaky steps forward. If they were all gone, then— “No!”

He ran, pulling on every ounce of energy he had left to spare. The alleys blurred around him, the only thing he could see the plume of dust and smoke in the distance. Mara’s last words to him echoed, her barbed truth even more true now. He should have stayed, should have fought! He should have been there and—

A program stepped out from around a corner, red-lines bright in the dark blue of the alleys. Beck barely managed to stop before crashing into them, and his core screeched back into working order as the helmet derezzed to reveal a smiling male-designate face.

“Hello, Tron.”

Dyson.

Beck scrambled back, trying to hurry out of reach, but it was too late. Dyson sprang forward, pressing his hand to Beck’s chest, a black stain on the once clean white render. When he pulled away, a shock grenade ticked down the final beats before blast. Two nanos. Beck looked up. One nano. Dyson smirked.

The charge went off, blurring everything into white agony. Beck crumbled to the ground.

—

Standing at attention in the update room, Paige did her level best not to look at Tesler. Ever since the fleet had broken Argon airspace, her commanding officer had been touchy. Even more on edge than usual. Not that she could really blame him, what with Clu at the helm for this one, but it was putting her on edge and it was putting every single sentry, guard, and blackguard likewise on edge. The hundreds of highest ranking sentries were milling about the room behind her, watching their General and speaking soft, hushed tones.

No one knew what was going on, and while they were used to following orders without question, none of them liked being in the dark. Not about something this big, not after a fleet that massive had taken roost in the city and was still flying circuits over Argon’s main districts. A hundred thousand troops added to their number in less than a quarter milli, none of them really listening to General Tesler’s authority. And where was Pavel? Paige cast another look around the room, but just like the other two times she’d looked, he wasn’t there. There was only Tesler, standing with his back to her and his hands clenched into tight fists at the base of his spine. He was watching Argon, watching the light jets that had flown in with the fleet as they canvassed the entire city. What they were looking for, she just didn’t know.

Maybe she didn’t want to know. Whatever—whoever—they were hunting for likely had something to do with the mess at the Plaza. A program capable of something like that, loose in her city? While not entirely content to leave it to Clu, she wasn’t going to mind them being the ones to go after it first. At least like this she’d know what she was dealing with.

She just hoped Beck was alright. If her memory was right, he’d worked at the Garage that was bordered by that Plaza. The building that was now just plain gone, the few soldiers that had been able to return wounded as if caught in a blast. Paige had been able to speak to none of them, every last one whisked away by Clu’s soldiers that now outnumbered them five to one. Something was off about that, and it made her core lurch. Whatever had happened, whatever had caused the garage to become nothing more than a smoking heap of code and dust, it wasn’t good. The idea that Beck, soft cored and so very sweet, could have been caught up in something like that, made her processor want to stop. She’d have to try and find him later, see if he was alright. Make sure he wasn’t a part of all this. Filing the thought away in her task list, Paige drew a breath and held her position. None of them liked waiting for orders like this, Paige least of all.

But she didn’t have to wait much longer. Past all the soldiers, the door into the room swung open as Clu, clothed in a long black robe broken only by golden lines, stepped into the room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” He said casually as he walked between the two rows of programs. A slight hum entered the room as he rolled two small spheres between his hand, helmet retracted into his armor as he stopped in front of Tesler. Her General had already turned around, and though he looked down at Clu it was obvious who the stronger program was. Clu cut an imposing image, shorter than General Tesler but much more feared. General Tesler’s jaw worked, and Paige swore she could hear every joint in his frame creak as he kneeled, putting himself onto his hands and knees before Clu. A murmur of alarm went up amongst the soldiers as he said,

“There is a terrorist loose in Argon. A renegade…and I bear the blame.” He went silent, but Clu shook his head.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Tesler. You’ve given your best; I know it.” Clu said as he began to circle the prone General, spheres still humming while Tesler tracked his movements. “What I’ve asked of you is no less than…perfection. And that’s no easy thing to achieve, my friend.” He smiled, letting the spheres rise from his hand. Paige grimaced faintly as the hum increased in volume, wedging its way into her audio input. It was an…odd sound. Almost hypnotizing were it not for the jarring pitch. They hovered in the air before Clu’s face, spinning as he gestured to them.

“Behold, the spheres. Their curvature, their shape. So endlessly…” He trailed off as if unsure, but Paige shook her head. 

“Perfect,” She breathed. And it was the truth; there were no jagged edges, no hitches or catches. They were beautiful. Clu smiled at her. It made her core stutter, ice down her spine. She blinked—perfect? They were just spheres!--but he paid no heed as he said,

“Yes. Very good, Commander. They are perfect.” He turned back to the spheres, cupping them in his hand before he dropped it to let them float on their own. “But were they always this way? Did they emerge perfect, or was their perfection seized violently, from the torrents of disorder? From chaos itself?” He asked, snapping his fingers. The spheres dropped, and with a sound far too loud for their small size, shattered across the floor in front of Tesler. Paige flinched as several Blackguard gasped in alarm, but Clu’s face remained stoically friendly as he waved a hand at General Tesler.

“Pick those up, will you?” He asked, almost casual. Paige’s core gave another hitch, watching her commanding officer lean forward and begin to scrape voxels off the ground. No one moved to help him, to step back once more. Everyone watched, waiting for the other disk to drop.

“So I ask you,” Clu suddenly spoke, breaking the tense silence, “How do you take something so clearly broken…” He raised a hand back, palming his disk. Instantly, Paige had to stifle threat warnings; this was Clu. Fighting him would be useless even if he’d come to kill them all. He’d killed Tron himself! What chance did they have? Tesler didn’t seem to think they had much of one, and stared up with wide eyes. 

“And make it perfect?” Clu finished, striking downwards. Someone cut off a shout as Tesler fell back, a painful gash down his nose and across both his thumbs. Clu’s disk hummed a toxic yellow in the floor, splitting the voxel remains of the spheres. It hadn’t been a kill move, but rather a display of power. Boots crunching across the remains, Clu crouched to pick his disk up, voice now icily cold.

“By changing the hands of leadership.”

Tesler stared up at him, eyes wide. Clu stood back up, eyes cold. Paige’s core spun up in her fear, faster and faster until she was sure every program in the hall could hear it. From the corner of her eye, she could see the soldiers backing up, closing ranks as they attempted to protect themselves without fleeing the room, trying to keep Clu’s anger off of them. Clu’s disk still spun a violent, toxic yellow, teeth gleaming in the light as he opened his mouth to speak, to condemn Tesler to the games or immediate deresolution

But then he stopped and looked up. Cautiously, Paige flicked her eyes to her side as a Blackguard strode past her, gold-tinted lines of Clu’s honor guard orange in the red light of the ship. Without a word or look to anyone else, he stopped at Clu’s side and leaned up to whisper in his leader’s ear, his voice inaudible in the open hall. Clu blinked at what he heard, looking to his messenger, but when the program gave a silent nod he inclined his head.

“I see.” His voice echoed through the room, and with another nod he dismissed the messenger. As quickly as he’d come, the program left the hall, leaving them with Clu once more staring Tesler down. Eyes still wide, Tesler didn’t look away as Clu docked his disk, the click harsh in the heavy silence. For a moment, Clu simply looked down at his General, face blank and eyes cold.

But then he smiled and reached down to take Tesler by the arm, pulling him from the ground.

“But it seems I won’t have to do that right away after all. Come, come—you too, Commander.”

Letting go of Tesler’s arm, Clu strode from the room at a fast clip, his cloak billowing out behind him. Quickly taking General Tesler’s disk from him, Paige ran through the health coding as they jogged after their leader through empty tunnels. Too many rushed patch jobs from the cycles before gave her all the practice she needed to quickly patch the injuries and she handed him his disk as they headed back into the bowels of the ship. They kept dangerous prisoners here, programs that needed some persuasion to finally talk.

She hated it down here.

Clu lead them to a doorway where two of his more golden-lined sentries waited, saluting him as he came to stand in front of the door. For a moment he stopped, cocking his head as if listening, before he smiled again. Standing a pace behind her General, Paige swallowed her fear and asked,

“Sir?” 

He looked from the door to her, that smile still on his face. 

“It’s nothing, Commander. Just an old friend saying hello.” 

And then he opened the door, gesturing for them to follow him in. Though Tesler had to duck through the doorway to fit, they both made it into the small interrogation slash containment chamber. A pillar of lit red code served as both weapon and shackle, glowing energy lines connected to two cuffs that would keep any program they brought here tied to the pillar. It was also the only light in the room after the door shut, the shadowy alcove where a disk would be locked away to taunt the captive program dim without the disk inside it. It was a good method of containment, Paige had to admit, but it had always seemed cruel to her.

She shoved the thought away as she stepped around Tesler for a better look. Pavel was already in the room, standing with a smug expression on his face as Dyson stood in front of the program that was tied to the pillar. Once her visual system had adjusted to the light, Paige had to stop herself from audibly gasping.

It was the Renegade. They’d captured the Renegade.

And apparently had struggled to do so, a small part of her processor chimed in. He was covered in blue gashes, wounds to his frame and dim circuits speaking of a long battle. His helmet was cracked and scraped, head hung low over his chest as he sat slumped on his knees with his hands shackled behind him. Pavel didn’t look much better now that she could get a good look at him, but Dyson was unharmed. Handing a disk to Clu, the foreign General looked to Tesler. 

“You should know, Tesler, that Commander Pavel was instrumental in capturing the Renegade,” Dyson said with a smile. “You really ought to promote him.”

Tesler looked like he wanted to hit something, but he nodded anyway. Pavel just smiled even wider, looking crueler by the moment. Tesler looked to Clu.

“Sir,” he said quietly, “Is there a reason we’re here?”

“Consider it a…goodwill present. He was captured by one of your own, in your city,” Clu said with a casual shrug, the Renegade’s dual colored disk flipping in his hands. “You may as well see which one of your citizens has been causing you all this trouble.”

“…Yes, sir,” Tesler replied with a narrow eyed look at the Renegade, who hadn’t once raised his head or even twitched. “Thank you, sir.”

Clu smiled. Without further delay, he activated the Renegade’s disk and scrolled through the protocols. Paige’s core twisted at the violation of privacy and space, but she said nothing as Clu finally reached the helmet removal protocol. With a single press and a handful of soft clicks, the white-suited program’s helmet came off. Pavel stared, stunned silent. Clu and Dyson exchanged a confused look. Tesler frowned.

Paige had to struggle to restart her core. 

Sitting there under the spotlight, head hung low and frame covered in gashes that spoke of injuries beyond the blue stain of impact across his forehead, was Beck.  



	2. 00110010

Awareness returned slowly. Mostly warnings at first; damage and shock, impact and tear. Mara blinked away one warning after another, frame aching as she tried to kick her memory banks back into functioning properly. The last eighth of a milli was gone, black and a gap in time. Why was that? Had she crashed her bike? Been caught in another explosion and knocked her port on something?

…That was it. The memory returned in a flash of light and the ache of standing too close to burning energy. Mara blinked, turning her head to stare at crumbling stone. She was laying on her side on a slab, the stone welcomely cool against her aching skin. There had been an explosion. A recognizer had opened fire on them and the walls had come down. The floor had given way. The garage had been destroyed. She blinked again, now more aware than before. The garage was gone, she and the Renegade had fallen into the tunnels. The others were—oh, by the Grid. She didn’t know where the others were! They hadn’t been in the garage but she didn’t know where they were and--

“Mara!”

Zed. She tried to say his name, but all that came out was a wordless groan. She clutched at her head, fingertips catching in the raw edge of a gash. She hissed, pulling her hand away as Zed came running and dropped to his knees at her side. He, she was glad to see, was unharmed. He raised a hand towards her, settling it on her arm as he stared at her with wide eyes.

“Are you alright—oh, what am I saying?!” He exclaimed, helping her to sit up straight, holding her by her arms. “Of course you’re not alright! You were just—I just—” His words caught in his vocals. Despite her aching body, she reached to clasp his arm and send what [ _comfort_ ] she could. He stopped, looking at her.

“Breathe, Zed.” She rasped, rebooting her vocals before blinking hard. Grid, she was tired… “I need you.”

He blinked at her, once, twice, then drew a steadying breath and nodded. She smiled, just a little, then blinked once more to fully reset her visuals. The tunnel section was dim, but there was no mistaking that there were piles of voxels scattered around. Some blue-edged, others orange. Dim disks lay in some of them, and her core lurched. It was hard to tell if they were orange or white in this light, let alone with her doubled visuals.

“The others?”

Zed, still holding her up, shook his head. “Everyone’s fine. We were clear when it came down.” He shuddered, thumb running over a ventral circuit on her arm as [ _relief_ ] flooded through her. It wasn’t all hers, either. “I really thought…Grid, Mara. I thought we’d lost you.” His voice sounded choked up. Mara’s core ached; they’d lost so much. If it had been him caught in that blast only to fall this far…she could understand his concern even as she shook her head and regretted it a moment later.

“I’m…I’m okay, Zed.” She finally managed to say. It wasn’t a total lie; so the Grid wouldn’t stop spinning. So she had to lean on him as he helped her stand. So every part of her hurt, port worst of all. She was functional, the crew was alright, and…well. She could deal with the rest. For once glad that Beck hadn’t shown up for work and wouldn’t have been caught in that, she looked up at her oldest friend. The movement set her recovering balance off again, and he appeared twice in her vision.

“Where’s…” She swayed, clinging to Zed’s arm to stay upright. She blinked, his circuits tripling before her vision cleared. “Where’s the Renegade?”

“Right there.” Zed replied, gesturing with his chin to the nearby slab. Mara turned slowly. Just out of arm’s reach from where she’d been, as if he’d fallen backwards off of her, the Renegade was laying flat on his back on the stone, lines dim in the dark, render broken by gashes and scrapes. Even his helmet hadn’t survived the fall unscathed, it was now cracked right down the middle at a diagonal, the angled glass splintering into a hexagonal pattern of shatter waiting to happen. Taking an unsteady step towards him, Mara reached forward, hand hovering over his dark helmet for just a moment. She reached down to deactivate it, only to scream as a firm hand gripped her wrist.

"You don't want to do that," The Renegade said, modulated voice quiet. Mara stared, eyes wide and lights flaring in her fear. How could he—he let go of her wrist, hand falling back to his torso. His circuits gave a flicker, the horrid sound of energy catching where it shouldn’t making her wish for a Medic. For a core-stopping micro, he didn’t move. Zed came up behind her, putting a hand on Mara’s shoulder. She looked at him, caught the worry in his eyes, and tried not to show her own. Beside them, the Renegade seemed to collect himself, hands flat on the stone he lay on. Zed leaned down a little.

“So even the Renegade has fights he can’t win.” He trailed off, swallowing hard as the Renegade snorted and shook his head, scraped up helmet rolling against stone that had once been the floor of the garage.

"That wasn’t a fight. That was a--" he stopped with a groan, painfully levering himself up to sit. A gash on his side extended another millimeter, not fatal but painfully obvious that it hurt him. Mara's core lurched. "That was a massacre waiting to happen,” he continued, “If your friends are alive…you should count yourselves lucky."

“Uh…lucky?” Zed asked before she could, gently pulling her back as the Renegade lurched to his feet, swaying for just a nano before regaining his balance. He shook his head just a little, drawing his shoulders up. “How do you figure that? We’ve got no place to go, we’re probably wanted by the Occupation, and you’re even more torn up than a bike that went through a Gridbug Swarm!”

The Renegade may have been wearing his helmet still, but Mara swore the look he leveled on Zed must have been cold as snow. Zed stepped back with a soft ‘erk’ as the Renegade reached back for his disk. Mara stiffened, knees locking…but then she relaxed as he simply brought up his patching protocol. Of course. He probably couldn’t walk with those injuries…

“You’re lucky,” he said as he worked, “Because you and your crew got away. The last program to end up in a situation like that didn’t.”

“Tron, you mean?” Mara asked, watching the patches of blue seal over the worst injuries. His lines were still dim, but he looked better already. He nodded at her once, docking his disk. Mara frowned. “But he was fighting with you. That means he got away.” The Renegade was silent. “…Doesn’t it?”

He took a steadying breath before speaking, emblem rising and falling with his intake. “He survived. But not without consequences. Just like you.” He looked directly at her, angled helmet dark but for the light of their circuits catching in the shatter pattern. “Time will tell if you’re anywhere near as stubborn as he is.” He stepped forward, only the slightest hitch in his step. “Stay close to me. We can’t stay here any longer.”

Zed frowned. As he walked past, Mara reached out, fingers brushing against the Renegade’s arm. 

"Are you..." She stopped, swallowing hard. He still looked exhausted, light-lines dim in the darkness. He looked at her for a moment, shoulders held high, and nodded.

"I'm fine, program. Start walking."

And then he continued to walk, one foot in front of the other. Mara looked at Zed, but the only answer he had for her was a shrug. It wasn’t an answer, but it would have to do. Taking a steadying breath, Mara nodded.

One foot in front of the other. She could do this.

——

The tunnels beneath Argon stretched for kilometers, criss-crossing under roads and buildings. Usually, they served as a drainage system, pumping rainwater from the streets into the Sea. But in dry spells, they served as a set of roadways in their own right, hidden from anyone who wouldn’t know where to look. Not even Tron knew all of them, the tunnels having been hidden from his Spire vantage point for so long. He knew the basics, but it was the Argon natives who knew their way around the best, and after figuring out which general direction to go, it was them that had taken the lead.

For once, Tron was inclined to let them. It left him a few moments to catch his breath, listening to the footsteps of fifty-eight programs as they walked east. Somehow, against all the odds, all of them had survived. Yes, they were frightened. Yes, Mara needed a medic about as badly as he did, but they were alive. They were functional. He’d take it no matter how much pain he was in. At least it was fresh pain. Not the constant companion of too many cycles, an ache that never faded. No, this was pressing, aches and scrapes and warnings to get himself to a medic as soon as possible. Preferably before he lost a core circuit and the mobility that came with it. He’d survived with worse. He could survive this.

It hadn’t even dulled his edge, really. A rumbling from above made him stop, the storm grate allowing a peak onto Argon’s streets…and the tank that rattled past. It was really starting to seem that Clu had brought his entire army…he frowned. Beside him, Mara hobbled to a halt. She’d insisted on walking on her own, letting Zed and another female-designate lead the way out of the city, but she was slowing. He looked at her as she stepped wrong, reaching out to catch her. Gripping his arm with one hand she nodded, rubbing her leg and grimacing in pain. Her injuries had been patched, but she wasn’t as used to this as he was. None of them were. 

Just one more reason to hate Clu for what he’d done. He would pay for all of this, not just for Mara’s crew. Tron would make sure of it.

As if reading his mind somehow, Mara drew breath to speak. “I didn’t ask before. Where—” She grimaced, fingers lingering on the patch on her thigh even as she looked at him, “Where is Tron?”

“He left to cover our escape.” Tron replied tightly. It was a sign of Beck’s age, that reckless move. But in the end, it had worked. If he hadn’t led those troops away, both he and Tron would have been captured or worse. “He’ll find us when he can.” If he could—no. No, he wouldn’t think like that. Beck was resourceful and quick on his feet. For all his recklessness, he’d manage something. He had to. “Right now, we need to get somewhere safe.”

“Which is where, exactly?” Mara found the nerve to ask, one thin brow higher than the other. He looked down at her, ready to retort, before Zed stopped up ahead. 

“Hey,” he called back, “This is the last exit point in the city! Should we keep going?”

For a moment, Tron turned the thought over. If they left Argon, they could reach the Spire. But that was a very long journey to make on foot. It would probably take a millicycle with everyone here, and if he tried it then the risk of a total crash was high. And if that happened…he didn’t want to think about it. He turned back to look at the storm grate, and the ladder they had passed only a hundred feet before it. If his memory bank served him right, it let out into a residential district. A quiet residential district. They could hole up there, he could find Beck, and they could all evacuate to the Spire. He shook his head.

“No,” he finally said, pulling free of Mara’s grip. “We’ll stop here. Get everyone topside.”

No one seemed pleased with the idea, but they marched back to the ladder anyway. Forcing himself to keep moving, Tron scrambled up the rungs and gently maneuvered the cover plate out of position. When there was no sound of confusion, no order to check it out from a guard or patrol nearby, he stuck his head up into the street and smiled just a little. Flynn himself couldn’t have programmed a better outcome: the tunnel access point was in the back alley behind the apartments, hidden from view of the road by the apartment building itself. No soldiers milled in the alley, and he quickly pulled himself up. When a few seconds had passed with nothing happening, he quickly turned back down and gestured for the mechanics to come up. One at a time, they climbed as quickly as they could manage, young faces full of fear and apprehension. It had been a long milli for all of them, and it showed. They milled in the alleyway, hiding behind walls and whatever else shielded them from sight as their fellows climbed. Only once Mara, the last one to surface, stood again, did Tron move. 

The emergency access door to the nearest apartment block opened as he palmed it, swinging open into the darkness of a common room. The blinds on each window were drawn, the front door barricaded with a sturdy looking sofa. Whoever had lived here seemed to have left in a hurry, decor tossed about and personal items left blindly behind.

It wasn’t an excuse to get sloppy. He poked his head in, ever vigilant for any sound, any sign of a soldier hanging around. But there was nothing, not even the scuff of a civilian boot in the upper levels. The building was empty. It would do. He nodded once, and with a heavy sigh of relief, the mechanics filed into the building to collapse onto the ground and staircase in heaps. Only Mara lingered in the alleyway with him, hesitant. No, not hesitant. Angry. She frowned at him, then looked up as a line of red-lined jets flew past.

“Just one question,” She began as her brow furrowed, “How’s Tron going to know where to find us?” Tron frowned. It was a valid question; other than the knowing that they had to leave the city and return to the Spire, there hadn’t been time to plan a rendezvous, and with the garage gone there was no way Beck could follow their tracks. Not that he knew how to begin with; tracing was a Security trick. He shook his head, turning away.

“Stay here. I’m going to go find him.”

Not letting her stop him, he moved to quickly take the fire escape onto the roof. The plume of smoke from the garage was more visible up here, a beacon of Clu’s power, and the fleet of lightjets crossing the city even more so. Clu wasn’t being subtle this time. Not like before the Purge. That was fine. Two could play at that game.

Taking another steadying breath, Tron palmed his disk to access the suit-mod function. The whites were Beck’s now, and he was more than proud to hand them over after all the young program had done to earn them. But he still needed something to use that would drive fear or hope into most programs, and he knew just the thing. One of Flynn’s old designs; not the stark whites he’d once worn as the Grid’s champion, but definitively not Argon’s style of bright lines and tiny designating accents. As heavier armor settled across his chest, flecks of white with the faintest hint of blue glowed at every joint and down across three of his fingers on each hand. Flynn had been so proud of it when Tron had first rezzed on this system; it was designed for subtlety, protection, and maximum effect if he chose to use his helmet, the sharp lines of which would point down at the emblem that burned in the hollow of his throat.

No, it wasn’t going to be subtle. It would stick out like a lightjet over dark waters. It wouldn’t match the Renegade’s suit, or even the stealth suit he’d been in when Beck had found him all those cycles ago. But it would send a message to Clu: Tron was done hiding. If there was a war to be waged, he would be on the front lines where he belonged.

And Beck would be beside him. He was going to make sure of that.

——  
For a few nanos, no one moved. The unconscious program barely even twitched, dim circuits flickering feebly. Behind her General, Commander Paige looked ready to crash herself. Beside Clu, Dyson frowned. While his message had said he didn’t think this was really Tron, some unknown program hadn’t exactly been on their radar before. With a pensive frown, Clu flicked through the modules on the disk in his hand until he reached power distribution. A few short commands later, and the program’s circuits flared to life once more. He gasped, startled as the reboot hit his core, before he coughed hard. Clu was almost sympathetic: hard resets were never fun, but then, this program had earned that discomfort. 

Besides, he seemed to shake it off relatively well. Probably wasn’t his first ride around the track. As Clu watched, he blinked once, twice, hair drooping into his eyes. No one said anything, watching the blue flicker in his eyes as his memory banks caught up, that young face turning into a frown as he realized just what, exactly, had happened to him.

But instead of shrinking back in fear or crashing a second time, he simply raised his head and glared at all of them. If Clu had to give his young captive credit for anything, it was his bravery. Despite staring down two Generals, two Commanders—including the one who’d almost caught him—and Clu himself, the beta was glaring at all of them as if they were simply Gridbugs. Clu just stared back, face calm and body language passive. He hadn’t really been expecting Tron, of course. Tron would have sooner derezzed himself than be captured again. This wasn’t Tron; this was a young program from Argon who had taken on more than he could process and paid the price.

He did, however, remind Clu of Tron. And add that to the Grid’s faint keen beneath his feet…he had to wonder.

“Function and Designation?” He asked. The beta just glared at him, eyes hard. But there was a different set to his shoulders now, a hunch of defensive posture as though he knew he was a sitting target where he was. Clu just sighed; he’d asked. He’d been nice. Handing the disk back to Dyson, he watched the beta’s face as Dyson pulled up the relevant files. The program glared at Dyson then, as if wanting nothing more than to take back his disk and protect his identity, but there was nothing he could do. Not anymore.

“Function is Mechanic, assigned to Able’s Garage.” Dyson paused, frowning faintly at something. Clu was sure he’d be filled in later and held his silence as Dyson went on to say, “Full Designation…Beck-0278-1989, sir.” Dyson said voice calm. Behind them, Commander Paige flinched.

“Beck.” _“At your beck and call, man!” Flynn laughs. Clu frowns. Flynn waves a hand, “User humor. Don’t worry—it’ll be just like having another Tron around.”_ “I see.”

Dyson looked at him, his frown deepening. Behind him, Commander Paige made a soft sound. Beck’s eyes tracked to her, softening minutely, and Clu had to keep himself from smiling. So, they had a history. He could use that. For now, however, he needed to speak to Beck privately. He turned to Tesler, ignoring Commander Pavel preening again. Really, how that program had managed to do anything at all to a program with half of Tron’s disk on him…either Beck wasn’t fully trained or Pavel was better than he looked.

He’d put a cycle’s worth of energy rations on it being the former. Pavel, still preening, leaned in towards Clu and Dyson.

“Sir, if I may?” Pavel asked quietly. Clu looked at him, then inclined his head. “Commander Paige often rubbed elbows with this program. You may wish to…scan her disk. Insubordination is such a wily foe.”

“Pavel!” Paige cried, circuits flaring in anger. Pavel didn’t seem bothered, simply leaning back with a smile even as Paige turned to Clu and bowed her head. “He’s right—I counted Beck as a friend. But even so, I would never side against you.”

“I don’t know about that, Paige,” Pavel said before Clu could speak, “You were all too willing to fight against your own forces before. Would a truly innocent program do such a thing?”

Clu arched an eyebrow. Tesler barely looked in their direction, stance tense and clearly uncomfortable, while Beck leveled a steely glare on Pavel. Paige simply drew a breath, holding herself up steadily. She, at least, seemed to have a cool head.

“He’s right,” She admitted with a slightly pained grimace, “I fought in the Colosseum once, as I was being framed for something I didn’t do. And, as he’s likely to tell you—” She leveled her own glare at Pavel, who leaned back and shut his jaw with an audible click, “I was rescued by the Renegade. But I didn’t know who he was at the time, and even if I had…” She shook her head just once, looking at Beck from the corner of her eye. “He altered my memory, damaged the code. I would never work with a program like that.”

“Paige…” Beck breathed, staring at her with wide eyes. Clu hid his smile with practiced ease; whatever ally the young mechanic thought he’d be able to find here, she clearly wasn’t on his side. She didn’t even look at him again, eyes only on Clu. Now he did smile, inclining his head.

“Of course, Commander. Your loyalty isn’t in question. Don’t worry.” He patted her shoulder, felt the relief coursing through her even without establishing a connection, and turned back to Beck. “I know how…dangerous programs like this one can be. The damage they can cause as they try to get their way…” He shook his head, eyes closed. “It’s best if you three don’t linger.”

“Sir—” Tesler broke in, startled. Clu looked at him.

“We can take it from here, General.” He said firmly. Tesler looked from him to Beck and back again, jaw working. He clearly wanted to say something, maybe disobey the order, but he knew his place and nodded.

“…Of course, sir,” Tesler replied. “Pavel, Paige, with me.”

Then he turned his back and strode from the room. Pavel walked out with his head held high, the very image of smug, but Paige’s steps were just a little jerkier. For half a nano she hesitated in the doorway, hand on the frame. Beck stared at her back, as if willing her to turn around, but she didn’t. With one more steadying breath, she strode out into the hallway without a word. The door clicked shut behind her, the lock auto engaging, and Clu turned to Dyson.

“Give us a few micros, would you?”

Dyson’s lingering frown deepened even further. His eyes flicked from Beck to Clu, and for a moment Clu wondered if he’d have to repeat the order. But then Dyson inclined his head, passing him Beck’s disk without a word, quiet footsteps taking him from the room. Only when they were alone did Clu smile again, tapping the ground with one foot to rez a seat behind him. Sitting down with a quiet huff of breath, he leaned his elbows on his knees as he contemplated Beck’s disk. Clu immediately brought up the memory storage, and while Beck tried to lunge at him, the cords kept him tied to the containment unit and Clu could quickly skim in peace.

Really, he did have to give Beck some measure of credit. He’d been content as a Mechanic, firm in his belief that that was all he was for so very long, only to find his existence turned upside down and shaken sideways. But, like he was meant to, he’d adapted. He’d thrived under Tron’s tutelage, more held back by his apparent main directive than helped by it. Was that Flynn’s doing or his lack of proper direction? It was hard to say, and Clu peered at the young beta through the display of his memories. Beck just glared up at him, brown eyes steely and cold. Clu had seen that look many times before, and something in his core shifted just a little. How long had it been since Tron had given him that look? Too long. Another Tron indeed. Definitely Flynn’s touch. His survival against his counterpart certainly said as much. It was actually impressive.

Not nearly as impressive as the sheer number of programs he rallied to his cause. Keller, Cutler, an entire contingent of mechanics—ah. So that was why Dyson had looked so strangely at him. That Garage was the one that had risen up while they’d flown overhead, the one that was now just code dust. Beck was—had been--their co-worker. Well then. That was just perfect; he’d need to send squads to be sure, but it seemed as if the infection had been curtailed by Pavel’s terrified command to launch a Recognizer and destroy the place. Turning off the display as it came to that milli’s events, Clu smiled warmly.

“Hello, Beck. It’s very nice to finally meet you.”

Beck snorted. “Can’t say the feeling’s mutual.” He said coldly, voice filled with something like hate. Not quite hot enough to be hatred, but…Clu raised an eyebrow. Definitely Tron’s touch there.

“No?” he asked casually, “Shame. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time.” Hundreds of cycles. Past the hatred, Beck leveled a confused look at him. Clu tapped his thigh with Beck’s disk. “Regardless, it seems you know a mutual friend of ours. Tell me, how is Tron doing lately? Any mood swings?” 

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” Beck stated firmly, eyes flicking from his disk to Clu’s face. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Your eyes and your words don’t line up, Beck. You can speak honestly with me.”

Beck’s gaze snapped back to him, the glare lingering. “You don’t want my honesty,” he spat. Clu raised an eyebrow.

“No?” he asked. When Beck held his tongue, he shrugged one shoulder and sat back, arms crossing over his chest. “Really, it’s alright. I have to admit, I’m curious as to what sort of lies Tron has been telling you since you two met.”

“They’re not lies!” Beck yelled suddenly, voice echoing around the room. So, Tron was a touchy subject? Clu had to suppress his smile.

“Half truths, then,” Clu acquiesced. “You certainly don’t know our side of the story.”

Dragging a breath through his nose to calm himself, Beck shook his head. “I don’t need to. What you’ve done says enough.”

“Beck,” Clu sighed, shaking his head and standing back up, “What I’ve done, I’ve done for the good of the Grid. What you and Tron have done…” Vandalism, spreading sedition, acts against the state, violence against state programs…the list went on and on. “All that’s done is weaken the Grid. Cost us good, hardworking programs!”

“And erasing innocent programs doesn’t?” Beck growled, “Erasing my friends doesn’t cost you good mechanics?” Before Clu could speak, he kept going. “Do you have any idea how many programs have been derezzed since the Occupation rolled in here?” He strained against the cords as if he wasn’t afraid of what Clu could do to him. Clu frowned; he should have been afraid, should have been terrified. For him not to be…he crouched down, taking Beck’s chin in one hand. Still unafraid, Beck just glared at him.

“They all made their choice. Actions have consequences.”

“So does inaction,” Beck spat, voice muffled for Clu’s grip on his cheeks and chin. Clu’s frown deepened. So, he really wasn’t afraid. He should have been. He let go of Beck’s face and sat back again, tapping the black-on-white disk against his hip. Beck drew another breath, brown eyes cold. "And if you think we’re just going to sit around while you destroy everything, you’re glitchier than an old bit.”

A raw insult. Clu raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth once more, but then stopped as the door swung open behind them. His honor guard, lines almost orange in the red light, poked his head in with a quiet “Sir?” Clu shook his head. 

“Seems everyone wants my attention this milli. Excuse me a moment, will you?” He said, standing up and turning his back on the young program. He stopped only within earshot of his guard, Dyson waiting just across the hall with an oddly curious expression on his face. At Clu’s wordless gesture, his loyal program shook his head, face hidden by a half mask.

“We found the sentry you sent us to find, sir,” He stated quietly, body half in the room and half in the hallway, “He took out six programs before we lost him in the residential district.”

“Do you have programs in the field?”

“Yes, sir. They’re still tracking him.” The sentry shifted his weight, “But he’s evading capture. It could take some time, sir.”

“I see.” Clu frowned. Having one rogue asset in the field was bad enough. But to have two, and considering who they both were… “And the other?” 

“Lost track of him, sir.” His honor guard grimaced. “There was a section of tunnel below the garage that survived. We’re combing it now, but it’s going to take time to find anyone down there.” Clu frowned. The tunnels beneath Argon weren’t mapped, to his knowledge. Oh, someone probably had mapped them and had the relevant data. Maybe Tesler. But not his programs. If Tron had survived—and he very much doubted that a blast of that size could take his old friend out—he was gone for now, hiding with whatever programs had also survived. It was a valid tactic, but…the honor guard shook his head, drawing Clu from the thought. “Sir, what priority should we assign to him?”

“…Low,” Clu responded, shifting his weight on his heels as his core gave a twist.. From the corner of his eye, he could see Beck straining against the energy cuffs that held his wrists tight to the containment pillar. Beck seemed extremely protective of Tron. Was it the other way around? If he knew his old friend the way he did, it likely was. Which meant they could use that. “Keep tracking the sentry. I want him brought in as quickly as possible. Leave the other to me.”

“Sir!” The guard replied, saluting before turning his back and striding down the hall. Clu took a steadying breath, and after gesturing Dyson back into the room, turned back to Beck. With a wordless gesture and the practice that came with being Clu’s right hand program, Dyson took Beck’s disk and continued as Clu remained in the doorway

“Dyson,” Dyson turned his head, one brow raised in wordless question, “It seems our old friend’s gone to ground. I’ll be going to get him shortly.” Clu watched as, despite the cuffs and his defensive posture leaning away from Dyson, Beck stiffened. Slowly, his eyes tracked upwards to stare at Clu. The anger that had been there just a micro before was still there, but hidden in the core was fear. Concern. He did care. Clu continued, “Do make sure that Beck looks his best for the reunion, will you? We wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Dyson just smirked. “Any limits, sir?” He asked, shifting his weight. Clu contemplated, the seconds putting even more fear into Beck’s eyes. His lines were already starting to flicker, a sure sign of energy exhaustion. He wouldn’t be able to take much more, and so…

“Keep him functional, but he doesn’t have to be mobile under his own power.”

Beck’s circuits flickered feebly. Dyson’s smirk grew cruel.

“Yes sir.”

Without another word, Clu strode from the room. The unmoving guards stationed on either side of the door didn’t so much as twitch as it slid shut behind him, nor did they even shift their weight as the thrumming sound of current began to sound from within the room. He doubted that even Beck’s cries of pain would get them to move. Repurposing was good like that.

Tron, on the other hand…Clu couldn’t help it. He smirked.

This would be a reunion to look forward to.

——

As it turned out, functional but immobile meant painful. The energy cord that held his hands had been drawn tight and pulled back around to lash his hands at the small of his back, until the only option Beck had was to stand and watch as Dyson pulled down a small shelf, tools strapped to the glowing orange code. It wasn’t hard to see that they weren’t bypassers and wrenches, but small saws and sharp instruments like them, blades and cables attached to energy transfer units. Dyson took his time, running his hand over each of them with a pensive expression on his face. 

“I have to admit,” He said after a few moments of perusing, “I’m a little impressed you lasted this long. You’ve certainly caused an awful lot of trouble these past few cycles.”

“And I’d do it again.” Beck replied, cursing himself for sounding so weak. The milli's events were getting to him, unneeded systems shutting down in tandem to keep the rest active. His visuals still functioned, at least, and he could clearly see it as Dyson shook his head.

“Really, Beck—” he stopped, turning to give Beck an almost warm smile, “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?" Beck just glared in response. Dyson didn’t drop his smile. “No? Good.” He turned back, stopping his hand over a set of sparking cables. “Really. Even if you did, it wouldn’t change anything. Did you really believe that two programs—one of which was so badly wounded he could barely see the last time I saw him—could “save” the Grid?” Dyson asked, almost casual as he shifted his hand to a small blade, turning it in the light. Back straight against the pillar, Beck kept glaring.

“I don’t see why not. One program already did. Two had better odds.”

Dyson inclined his head. “True,” He agreed, tone still casual, “But that was another time. Another system, even. Things have changed.”

“Not enough.” Beck almost snarled. “You’re still going to go down, same as Clu.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Dyson’s reply was followed by the revving of a small motor, a painfully bright blue-green glow lighting up his face as he turned around, tiny saw in his hand. He strode forward, reaching to take Beck’s head in one tight grasping hand and bring the saw up with the other. The saw drew close, close enough that he could feel the heat, feel it burn at the render beneath his eye. Beck squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, tried to brace himself for the pain he knew was going to come—oh, Grid this was going to hurt—only to jolt as the sound stopped, Dyson’s grip falling away. He opened his eyes, startled. Dyson had not only turned the small saw off, he’d stepped back and returned to the small shelf. “Especially considering just how injured Tron was.”

Despite the circumstances, Beck smirked just a little. He shifted his weight, dragging one ankle up against the pillar. They hadn’t restrained his feet yet. If Dyson got close enough a second time, then…he had to keep him talking. 

“What, those old scars?” He rasped, then cleared his throat. The taste of old energy was sour, acrid. His systems weren’t just shutting down, they were failing. “They were hardly skin deep. Tron was just fine.” Still was. They’d made sure of that. He’d even fought. If anything was still wrong with Tron, they’d have noticed on the way out. By the Grid, Tron had been the one to catch _him_! He was fine. Of course he was. Beck repeated that thought like a mantra as Dyson smirked, picking up the set of cables he’d passed over before.

“Oh, you poor, naive, beta.” He said slowly. “I gave him those marks myself. Trust me.” He picked up the cables, striking the metal transfer ports against one another. They sparked wildly, the connection to the energy cable in the wall giving them full power. Beck flinched. “They were anything but shallow. Considering the wreckage in that plaza, I’m sure they’re healed now, but before…” He shook his head, finally turning around. “How did it feel, being used by someone all the stories said were heroic? By someone who should have been protecting you?”

The cables snapped again. Beck flinched a second time, port scratching against the pillar. Dyson raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. Beck forced himself to draw in a steadying breath, then said,

“Even heroes need help.”

Dyson blinked at him. Once, twice, three times. He pulled the transfer ports of the cable apart and put it back on the shelf, laughing as he did so.

“A hero?” He asked incredulously, walking towards Beck with empty hands clasped at the base of his spine. “No, little mechanic. Tron’s no hero. All he is is a glitch, a drain on the system. One that was, unfortunately, too durable to erase the last time.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “We won’t fail a second time. Not with you here.”

Despite the restraints, Beck jerked backwards. Quick as a flash, Dyson followed. He reached up with one hand, slamming Beck’s face into the pillar. He shook his head.

“You really shouldn’t be so stubborn about this,” He tutted, “Tron wouldn’t be.”

“Then you—” Beck snarled, voice muffled, “Don’t know Tron.” Dyson let him go, stepping back with a sneer. Beck shook his head to clear it, cheek aching with the buzz of energy transfer and an abrasion. No wonder his port ached—the pillar had a current! He shook his head a second time, blurry visuals clearing. The look on Dyson’s face—as if he was a Gridbug or something just as useless—was evident.

“And neither do you, it seems.” He raised one hand, inspecting his palm as if he expected it to be covered in viral code. “Did you really think you’d saved him?” He looked up, face placidly empty. “Or that you even could? Soon, all you’ll be is cubes. And Tron will finally take his rightful place at Clu’s side.”

Dyson looked like he’d swallowed bad energy as he said that, but Beck’s core lurched anyway. Somehow, the thought of Tron at Clu’s side was worse than the thought that his friend had derezzed with everyone else in the garage. Maybe because it would mean that Tron’s worst fear had come true: he would have become Clu’s greatest weapon against the uprising. Beck swallowed hard.

“He won’t,” he breathed, lifting his head. Staring at Dyson was like staring into a bottomless canyon. His eyes were dark and empty, and it was terrifying. “We stopped that!”

“Did you?” Dyson asked, leaning in again. He still stood too far away. “Or were you a nano too slow?” When Beck didn’t reply, he smirked. “You don’t know, do you?”

“I made it!” Beck yelled as forcefully as he could, voice catching in his throat. Had he? Tron had seemed fine, but then, so had Cutler. And that had ended fairly poorly, too. Dyson just sighed, the smirk on his face falling into something more sympathetic.

“Or,” he said as Beck caught his breath, “the repurposing could have already taken hold. He could already be on his way to Clu.” Dyson gave Beck a pitying look. It made his core twist even harder. “Poor little mechanic. No one’s coming for you. Not even Tron. You’re not getting out of here alive.”

With a lurch, Beck shifted his weight. Were it not for the restraints keeping him upright, he’d have fallen to his knees, failing balance module as unsteady as his core. What if Dyson was right? What if Tron had somehow been repurposed? He’d thought he’d made it, but every nano counted with things like this. If he’d been even one nano too late, then…no. He shook his head to drive the thought away. He had to believe that Tron was alright. Maybe he was alone, but that was alright. He’d gotten out of worse, and would get out of this somehow. Refusing to back down, Beck glared at his captor.

"That doesn’t matter.” He coughed, knowing how much it did matter. Grid, he couldn’t lose Tron, too! “Even if you derezz me,” Beck snarled, “We won’t stop fighting. The Grid won’t stop fighting.” He narrowed his eyes. “They’ll never stop fighting, so long as Tron’s alive.”

Dyson just smiled coldly.

“Well, we certainly know what that cost your friends, don’t we?” He laughed a little, a soft sound that still caught in Beck’s core. “Energy blasts are so very…efficient, wouldn’t you say? Of course, that also begs the question of if Tron survived.” He frowned, pensive and pacing closer. Did he realize he was walking right into Beck’s range? It had to be a trap. Didn’t it? “He’s a stubborn program, but even he has his limits. I really don’t—”

Before Dyson could finish, and before he could stop himself or even think that this was a bad idea, Beck moved, throwing himself back onto the pillar. His port screamed at him, absolutely hating being leaned on, but it was enough. He got one foot up, and with every bit of strength he had left, he kicked out and struck home right in the middle of Dyson’s chest. Stunned by the audacity of the move or maybe just taken off guard, Dyson stumbled backwards with a gasp. Winded, but not hurt. Beck still smirked. They could derezz him, they could repurpose him, but he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Not like this.

Dyson’s placid face finally broke into rage. With one stride he stepped forward, with another he closed the gap and threw all of his weight into one punch right into Beck’s middle. The impact resonated up his entire frame and drove the air from his processor, leaving it stuttering as Dyson let him slump, the restraints now really the only thing keeping him upright. Over his heaves and gasps for air, his struggles to reset his processor before he could fall into shutdown, he heard Dyson snort and turn away, footsteps harsh in the quiet of the dark room. Without a single look back, Dyson strode to the shelf of tools once more. As he picked up the little saw and turned it on, he turned back to sneer at Beck.

“No one is coming to rescue you, program,” Dyson said, the blue glow of the tool casting his face into odd shadows, “I suggest you get…comfortable.”

He stepped towards Beck, painfully buzzing saw in hand. Still heaving for air, Beck looked up at the face of a program that, he realized with a cold shiver down his spine, didn’t just want him derezzed.

Dyson wanted him to suffer, and he was the one in power here.

This was going to hurt.

——

The ship was lurching with every step Paige took, the once familiar corridors warped and unstable. Overhead, the storm that had been threatening all milli finally cracked open with explosion loud thunderclaps and a roar of rain. The charge of energy in the air brightened all the circuits, but it did nothing to steady her steps. The ship was spinning, unsteady and uneven in flight.

No. No, that wasn’t right. They were still on the ground, not due for a refueling for another three cycles. No, it wasn’t the ship. It was her. She was amazed she wasn’t banging into the walls as they walked, but even so she had to force herself to keep her head held high as they walked back into Tesler’s command chamber, passing Clu’s golden-orange soldiers as they walked everywhere from fuel storage to the hangers. When they reached the upper levels again, the corridors were blessedly empty, only the thunder and rain to accompany them as they stepped into Tesler’s chambers. As the door closed behind them, Pavel turned and gave her a soft smile. On anyone else, it would have been kind. Understanding. Sympathetic, even. On him? It just looked like a sneer.

“Shame about your friend back there,” Pavel said casually, as if speaking about the weather. Paige looked at him from the corner of her eye, unwilling to look any further as he continued, “But really. I suppose you can’t expect much more from backwater towns like this. All this space to form dissent…” he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Remarkable, really. Hardly enough supervision. I’m amazed he lasted this long!” He shook his head again. Gritting her teeth, Paige finally looked at him.

“He lasted long enough to force you into shutdown. That’s the best thing he ever did.” She snapped. Pavel drew back, smile dropping. He blinked at her once, twice, three times, and opened his mouth to retaliate—

"Pavel, don't think I don’t know it was your order that wiped that garage off the map,” Tesler broke in, looking at the two of them from over his shoulder. Pavel’s eyes went wide.

“Sir, I—”

“Went directly above my head. Argon is my city,” Tesler turned around. “You have Purgos to take care of, remember?”

Pavel said nothing for a long, telling moment…then simply sighed.

"Of course, sir." He bowed his head in acceptance, but his smirk returned even as he walked backwards from the room. Without a word, they watched him go. Only when the door had closed and locked behind him did Tesler turn around, grumbling and stalking his way to his small cabinet of energy canisters and glasses. Core lurching, Paige turned to watch his back as he poured himself a long drink.

"Permission to speak candidly, sir?"

"What."

"Pavel's going to be a problem." She stopped, remembering the past few millis, then took a breath. "He already is. He's tried to set us both up multiple times."

"Why do you think I assigned him to Purgos, Paige? If we get lucky, that trash heap will take him out for us." 

"...and if we don't, sir?"

"Well," Tesler sat heavily upon his chair, drink in hand, "We'll just have to think of a way to get rid of him ourselves. I’m sure it won’t be a problem," He paused to take a sip, the dim glow of the drink casting his face into odd shadows. One sip and his patched knuckles healed. Two and his nose regained its old shape. Paige’s thoughts turned traitorously back to Beck on the lower levels, and all his not even patched injuries. “What with the state of…affairs.” Tesler finished with a sharp growl, jolting Paige back from her thoughts. She turned to look out the window, the massive plume of smoke still rising from the Plaza and smaller ones reaching for the clouds across the city. Argon was a mess. She shook her head slowly.

"Sir, what'll happen to Argon?"

"It'll be quarantined. Scrubbed clean of all traces of the rebellion."

"...programs will be derezzed." Paige said quietly, core lurching to a halt. She cursed the words the moment they left her vocals; of course programs would be derezzed. Innocent programs always paid the price in situations like this. So why did it feel so much worse this time?

"it's the cost of rebelling, Paige." he tightened his hand around his glass, cracks running up the surface of it. "Rebellion is just as dangerous as the ISOs."

Paige swallowed hard. The ISOs had destroyed everything she had worked for before, taken her only friends away without remorse. And yet, they had left her alive. Even if the soldiers had arrived in time to save her life, a core strike only took a handful of nanos. Something still wasn't adding up. Tesler read her silence, then waved his free hand through the air.

“If you’re worried about Pavel’s accusation, don’t be.” He smiled as she startled. “Paige,” he chuckled, sipping his energy once more, "I've seen your disk. And on top of that, you’ve been a loyal solder for cycles. I know you'd never work for someone like that."

Wouldn’t she? Beck’s words came back to her: they were both trying to save the Grid. Had he been right? Had he been telling the truth? She just couldn’t reconcile the idea that Beck, sweet and soft-cored and so very kind, had been the Renegade all along. She’d seen what he’d done, had picked up the pieces and damaged programs left in his wake. Clearly, she hadn’t read Beck as well as she’d thought. And yet, as she looked at Tesler, the thought came to her that maybe she hadn’t read her commanding officer as well as she’d thought either. He hadn’t come to her defense in the cell. He said he believed her now, but he’d been quick to condemn her to the games before. Could she trust him? Somehow, even with everything and all the lies, trusting Beck seemed the better option.

Probably because she knew she could kick him flat on his port in a fight. Swallowing hard, she nodded.

"Of course not, sir. I just…Pavel’s got me on edge, I suppose." She finished lamely. Tesler ‘hmm’ed quietly,

"I know. Pavel is certainly a problem." He made another contemplative sound, then shook his head. "We'll figure something out. Right now, I need you on the streets." He lifted his head, looking her dead in the eyes. "Get out there, round up any trace of rebellion. And squash it."

And despite her lurching core, despite the alarms ringing in her system, Paige simply nodded.

"Yes, sir."

—-

In one of Argon City’s many dark alleyways, a meeting was taking place. A handful of Sirens huddled together, silvery suits stark against the shadows. Their youngest shook her head in disbelief at what her sisters were saying.

“Did they really?” She asked softly. “Did they really capture Tron?”

“No,” One of her sisters replied, beaded braids clacking against her back, “The Renegade isn’t Tron.”

“He’s still a symbol,” Their leader said, “And you know what she’d say.”

“Leave no one to Clu,” All the Sirens replied in unison. Dark eyes warm, she nodded. 

“Then you know what we must do.”

And they did. Without another word, the group of Sirens spread out into Argon’s dark alleyways. They would do what they could. She could only hope it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on, you’ll start to see some terms pop up in reference to time and the keeping of time. To clarify, here’s what each means in the context of Liberation.
> 
> Nano=Second  
> Micro=Minute  
> Milli=Eight Hours (Short for Millicycle; a quarter-milli=two hours, half-milli=four hours, eighth (of a) milli=one hour)
> 
> Time in Tronverse is. Odd. In Legacy, Zuse says to Clu that he (Clu) has been looking for Flynn’s disk for roughly 1000 cycles, while 20 years have passed in the organic world. In Uprising, cycle is used in context to mean a single day. This doesn’t match up, whether due to the showrunners not double checking their work or, honestly what I think happened, just not caring. In Lib, each “day” consists of 3 Millicycles, each corresponding to the equivalent of 8 “hours”; each program will spend one in sleep mode and two awake at work or play. Two upcycles, one downcycle. Most keep to the same schedule, but like with humans, you get some outliers who just flip everything on it’s head. (or work Graveyard.)
> 
> Like me! /goes to bed at 7AM.


	3. 00110011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Aftermath of Torture. The acts themselves aren't depicted, but it's _Dyson_. Fucker plays with his prey.

Argon was empty.

Well, that wasn't quite true. The streets were empty, all sane programs huddled away in apartment blocks or their workplaces as Clu's army rode around the city like they owned it. Really, Paige thought to herself as she slowly rode her bike through the streets, they probably did. Hundreds of red-lined soldiers walked and rode the roads with her, some from Tesler's contingent but most were new renders and faces, checking every alley and rooftop as if expecting to find anyone still out and about under the current circumstance. As if any programs would be out under a storm of this size or with this many soldiers around.

She had to hand it to Argon: they knew how to stay alive.

Most of them, anyway. Paige's bike carried her past piles of cubes, blue edged voxels a sickly shade of teal-green in the almost red cast the city was under. She didn't know who those had been before—mechanics like Beck? Medics like she had been? Or anyone just caught in the open?—but she'd seen enough by the time her aimless driving led her to the Plaza. She'd been here only once or twice before, the light of Able's garage keeping even the furthest edge lit. Now it was dim, the energy fire having been put out by the storm that had followed. It was empty now, most of the yellow-lined rubble of the unknown craft having been blown into the harbor with the energy blast that had decimated the only building that had called the area home. The only sign of the battle that had taken place here was scorch damage in the code beneath her feet, the tell-tale pattern of a tank blast telling her that whoever had driven it was an absolutely terrible shot.

Probably one of the mechanics, she thought to herself. They'd had a few contracts with the Occcupation forces. It wouldn't have been outlandish for them to have that kind of hardware on the repair bay. Not that it had helped in the end; she stopped when she found a good vantage point to take in the Garage…or what was left of it. Besides the sheer scope and size of the debris pile, there was hardly anything left to tell there had been a garage here. Piles of white and blue code were still falling, trickling down into the tunnels. It looked unstable, unsteady.

She climbed it anyway, picking her way across the remnants of sixty programs lives. She hadn't known all their names, or even all their faces, but she'd known the count. Known how many were just simple mechanics, knew some of their leader's history—Able had survived Tron City and the Coup only to die out here? Talk about unfair—and knew enough about Beck that the place had seemed…safe. Unnoticeable. They did good work.

Or at least, she'd thought as much. Stopping at the top of the mound, Paige turned on her heel and surveyed the area. It would be scrubbed, no doubt. All traces of insubordination wiped clean after the events of the upcycle. Tesler would likely see to it himself, needing to be cautious with Clu and Dyson in town. Soon enough, there would be nothing left. The storms would eventually wash away whatever couldn't be cleaned, sending it into the Sea. Names would be struck from all rosters, all traces of resistance erased until even memory failed. No one would dare to speak the names of those that had once worked and spent their time here. They would be simply…gone.

Even Beck would be gone. Core lurching, Paige swallowed hard. The thought that Beck—sweet, soft cored Beck—was the Renegade still hadn't settled home. How could a program like that, so very awkward, be the Renegade who was so very confident? It was a double life in more than one respect, and the idea that she hadn't been able to tell sent her spinning. Not only for the fact that he'd spent their entire time together lying to her, but for the fact that he'd turned on her. Betrayed her. Damaged her.

…Hadn't he? She frowned, looking at the code below her feet. Tesler had shown her the disk, had shown her the memory, but she knew better than almost anyone that memories could be modified. And that program hadn't been able to even speak for himself, let alone contradict Tesler and Pavel's claims. How easy would it have been to manipulate him as she had been made to look guilty? How easy would it have been to make it seem like the Renegade—Beck—had set everything up?

Too easy, she realized with a sudden jolt of core-stopping clarity. All it took was a little bug and then…no way to contest it. No way to prove your own innocence. She shuddered, chafing her arms against an internal cold. Beck had been right: her own people had turned against her. She'd known that then but stayed, having no place else to go that wouldn't end in her own deresolution.

No. She'd had a place. He'd offered, but she'd turned him down. She'd been unwilling to face facts, unable to seen an existence as anything but a soldier. Without that, after losing her friends and the medical center, fighting had been all that was left. Fighting for a cause she'd believed in to keep programs safe…only now she knew it was anything but that. And Beck had known all along.

If only she'd listened! If only she'd gone with him!

With a sharp half-scream, she dropped into a crouch. If onlys and could haves were going to eat her core like a swarm of grid bugs! If only she could do something without getting herself derezzed, if only she could help him somehow, if only if only if only! But there was nothing she could do about it now. Soon, he'd be the one gone. Argon would be cleansed, purified, and set back into Occupation territory. Tesler would likely be reassigned to another city, Paige and Pavel with him, and life on the Grid would continue as it had for cycles.

Somehow, the thought didn't make her feel any better. It just made her core lurch even harder. Forcing herself back to her feet—she needed solid ground—and with a shaky sigh, Paige began to pick her way back down the mound of shattered code. Halfway back down, she stopped mid-step. Beneath her feet, something gleamed as lightning flashed overhead, the rain catching the light as it bounced off white code. She crouched down, knees in shattered glass, and picked it up. It was a white baton, scorched and cracked, but somehow still intact. She turned it in her hands, frowning as it pinged her helmet and the contents displayed in a wash across her display. An Encom 786, likely the last of its kind. That it had survived when everything else in the Garage had been destroyed spoke wonders of the durability of old code.

She sighed. Overhead, thunder rumbled. Rain pattered off her helmet. Neither could could hide the sound of a disk revving up, nor the lightning hide the bright flare of a white disk at her neck.

"That's not yours."

Male-designate, tall enough to loom over her, and angry. Paige slowly turned her head to glare at him. His suit was covered in thick black armor, angular helmet pointing down at a blazing white circuit tinged with only the faintest hint of blue. A small "T" formed of four blocks.

The mark of Tron.

Beck? No. Not only was the voice different, Beck was still in custody. That left only one option.

"Tron."

He didn't deny it. He didn't so much as twitch, disk a hot blade at her neck. He probably didn't even blink. She narrowed her eyes but didn't move. He didn't move either, staring her down and holding his disk to her neck. Her hand tightened around the baton. It was a bike, and it would take too long to form if she cracked it open—if it could hold shape at all with how badly it was damaged—to be of any use, and the best she could do with it was throw it at his head and hope he flinched. He kept his gaze on her, badly crackled helmet catching the light of another lightning strike.

"I said, that's not yours." He sounded mad. She almost smirked. "Put it down."

"You want it so badly?" She replied, shifting her weight and her grip. "You can have it!"

And with a single reckless move, Paige threw it. Instinct—he was a fighter; either a soldier or security—had him reaching up to bat the threat away and in that instant she was after him, drawing her disk and charging. The piles of cubes beneath their feet shifted and roiled as their disks clashed, the rain catching on both their helmets as she pushed with all her might. This close, she could see the patched injuries that marred his frame—Grid, he and Beck were a matched set—and see the strain they put on him. She was a medic first, and the size of that gash down his side almost made her grimace.

Almost. The soldier training she'd had kept her stable, kept her standing, and he wavered first. On flat ground, it wouldn't have mattered. On unstable code, it did. He stepped back, put his heel down in the wrong place, and his ankle rolled. She heard him gasp, a tiny sound of shock, and shouldered right into his chest with a sharp cry of rage. They both fell back down the hill, rolling and tumbling across sharp edged cubes that pressed and scraped. Paige impacted the flat ground of the plaza first and bit her lip against the press of her port even as they kept rolling. He finally got his bearings straight and started kicking, kneeing her right in the abdomen. She stumbled back, barely keeping her disk in hand, and he was on her in a nano. She ducked, bobbing and weaving under his strikes until she had to meet him head on in a clash. He was fast. Strong, too. Her arm trembled even with both hands on her disk, trying to hold back his swing. Sparks flew between them, unhindered by the rain, and she narrowed her eyes at him beneath her helmet.

"You fight a lot better than Beck does," She prodded at him, watching the circuit at his throat flare in emotional response. "But you've got to remember something." She shoved with all her might, breaking from the stalemate and ducking under his next swing, "He could never win against me!"

Again, she charged in. This time she came in low, aiming for his jaw, but he leapt aside and came after her again. She stepped back, hopping away from his swings and waiting for an opening. The rain soaked plaza reflected their disks in the light, boots slipping in puddles. Lightning flashed as he chased her, ducking under her disk once more. Even with his broken visor shielding his face, she could still feel the glare he leveled on her.

"He could never beat me, either." He said, and then gave her an almighty shove. She stumbled back with a cry, heel slipping in a puddle until she landed flat on her rear end. Her disk rolled free of her hand; she rolled to get it, narrowly avoiding a disk strike to her dominant arm. She quickly palmed her disk, scrambling back to her feet, and went after him again. Thunder rumbled, the storm high overhead, but she paid it no mind. They were on flat ground again, and she wasn't hurt. He was, and it was starting to show. She charged at him, catching him by the shoulder and sending them both tumbling. To his credit, he got back up and sidestepped around her swing, catching her disk and sending her stumbling with a punch to her jawline. She grunted, caught her footing and raised her disk overhead with a cry—

Lightning struck the sea, close enough that she could feel the heat. With a cry of alarm she threw both arms up, visuals shutting down from the overload of light even as her visor polarized in response. There was no time to react, no time to dodge, as he moved before her visuals could come back online. He crashed into her middle, knocking them both right to the ground. A sightless tumble later and her visuals restored to find the plaza right in her face, her stomach on the ground, and the program with his knees on either side of her abdomen with his disk at her neck once more. She bucked her hips, arched her back but all he did was shift his weight and hold on. A move like that would have dislodged Beck, but he…he clearly was a lot better. Paige swallowed hard, pride stinging, as she realized the only reason she'd even gotten him down here was because he'd stumbled. Either that, a small voice in the back of her processor chimed, or he let her. She wasn't sure what was worse. His disk revved against her neck, the heat activating a warning in her helmet.

"I'm only going to ask you this once," He rasped, and she took some small comfort in knowing she'd at least worn him out, "Where is he?"

She didn't answer, eyes scanning for her disk—ah. There it was. Out of her reach even if she strained for it. With a snarl, she retracted her helmet and glared at him.

"In a cell." She spat, "Where he belongs. Clu and General Dyson had some questions for him, and when they're done, they'll derezz him."

The words were sour on her tongue, catching like bad energy in her throat. She didn't mean them, she realized. It was just another lie. The program's circuits flickered, but whether it was in response to her words or just because of his injuries, she couldn't tell. She kept her glare going but he didn't retreat, disk still at her neck. They were at a stalemate. She narrowed her eyes, watching. If he thought he could wait her out, he had another thing coming. He'd have to derezz her.

Except he wasn't moving his disk. He was staring at her through his cracked visor, the lightning that struck out to sea lighting up the geometric cracks. Slowly, he leaned his weight back.

"Worse. They'll repurpose him." He tilted his head. "Is that what you want?"

Her core lurched. She pressed past it, fisting her hands at her sides. She was a soldier, a loyal soldier in Clu's army. Of course it was what she wanted!

Wasn't it?

"You two corrupt the Grid! All you do is make things worse, just like the ISOs—"

"The ISOs—" he broke in with a yell, "Were created by the Grid. Not Flynn, not another User. The Grid made them, and Clu destroyed them." He shook his head faintly. "There was peace before the Purge. Clu is the one who did all of this—this!" He swept his free hand out, taking in the burning garage and the scorched plaza in a single gesture, the light jets on patrol overhead roaring by as if to punctuate his words. "This is because of him. How is this not corruption?"

Paige opened her mouth…then shut it, teeth audibly clicking. He didn't know Pavel had been the one to order the destruction of the Garage, and yet…the memory came unbidden, a different time and place.

We're free. It's the only reason we're being hunted. Quorra had said. Free to destroy the Grid? Or free to exist in peace, away from Clu's idea of control and perfection? She swallowed hard, turning her face into the puddles on the ground.

"…It doesn't matter." She finally got out, lump in her throat stealing her voice. Beck was going to be gone. She didn't want that. "It's done. He's as good as finished."

"No. He's not."

His weight on her back disappeared. Paige turned quickly, but he was already standing up, picking up the white baton from where it had fallen all the way down here. He turned it over in his hands once, disk still a bright flare against his side, before he cracked it open. The code was damaged, even she could see that, and it flickered as it rezzed. But if there really was one thing to be said about old code, it's that it was steady. Stable. Despite the flickers and the burn damage along the sides of the bike, it held as he lowered himself into the driver's position. Paige rose to her knees, and he looked at her.

"He was willing to risk everything for you once." He said firmly, "I can see now that letting him do that was a mistake."

And then he was gone, taking off to become nothing more than a streak of white light too fast to chase after. Paige stared after his trail, watching as he turned a corner, and then lowered herself back to her knees. Thunder rumbled overhead again, lightning lighting up her reflection in a puddle, the blue energy fire turning her circuits an odd shade of green in the dim light. It was too close to her old medic colors for her comfort, and she closed her eyes. Beck had been willing to risk everything for her? Like what? A two program revolution that was now nothing more than a bad dream? She snorted.

No. No, it was more than that. He'd gone after her, saved her from a lengthy fall. Risked capture and…repurposing. She'd seen soldiers like that, made from the wreckage of other programs. It was a last resort measure, used to save them from virals or damage too extensive to heal, and yet the way he'd said it made it sound like it was destruction, not salvation. Was it? Grid, she just didn't know. She raised both hands to scrub her face, then finally looked up.

There was nothing she could do for Beck. She knew that. To help him escape, even if she could, would be treason. There would be no explaining it away this time, and the entire might of the army would crack down on her like a disk on a gridbug. She'd be destroyed, he'd be destroyed, and it would be over. No, there was nothing she could do to help him this time.

But Argon? She could try to salvage the city. She had to. For the programs that still called it home, and maybe for the ideal Beck had started with, she had to try.

With a steadying breath, Paige pushed herself to her feet.

"No," She said quietly, as if the program was still there to hear her, "It wasn't."

\--

Deep in the bowels of Tesler's ship, the only sign of the storm was the occasional ground-rattling boom of thunder. They were so far down that it was more of a feeling than a sound, rattling through Beck's frame.

Or at least, what was left of him. Every inhale was agony, his systems screaming for cool-down and for sleep with every passing second. Dyson, crouched by his head, smiled faintly.

"Is that all?" He reached down, tilting Beck's head up with two fingers on his chin. Beck groaned softly as the movement pulled on wounds, on the burns the saw had left behind. Dyson had toyed with him, saying that he would make him a mirror of Tron, but in the end had clearly thought differently.

 _"No,"_ He'd said finally, when all Beck could do was gasp for air, face aching, _"I want you to be able to see when we win."_

That had been now. This was then. Beck glared through blurry visuals as Dyson tutted, uncaring that he was crouching in a pile of darkened blue cubes.

"Really," He said, "I thought that Tron's apprentice would be stronger than that." He dropped Beck's head back to the ground, ignoring the young program's gasp of pain as he stood up, leaving him curling in on himself with his hands still tied behind his back. "But then, you're certainly no Tron."

Around a mouthful of sour energy and internal coding, Beck hissed through his teeth. He couldn't get words out, couldn't stop heaving for air, but Dyson laughed as if he'd said something funny anyway. The Occupation program stood with his hands behind his back, the very image of calm and controlled.

And why wouldn't he be? It was obvious he'd won, Beck thought to himself. Circuits were dark from cuts slicing across them, and his leg tingled with the limited energy it received from a cut mobility circuit. His hands had gone numb, trapped behind his back, and his shoulders ached. Everything hurt, really. His chest worst of all, where Dyson had almost seemed to try and carve Tron's emblem off of him.

That had been personal. This whole thing had been personal. No wonder the null-unit was so smug. Dyson's scoff echoed through the room.

"And really, you were just fooling yourself if you thought you could be." Dyson bent over, meeting Beck's eyes as the young program managed to tilt his head back and glare, just a little. "The only thing you'll share with him is a fate. Deresolution."

Beck didn't have the energy to retort. Dyson's sneer of a smirk returned, and he stepped away.

"Do try and get some rest," He said, heading for the door. His voice was a mockery of kindness, echoing around the small room just as Beck's screams had before. "You need to be at your best for our…old friend."

And then he was gone, the door whooshing shut and locking behind him. With another groan, Beck closed his eyes. He was alone, finally. Mercifully, quietly, alone.

Alone to derezz in peace.

The thought was quiet, brought on by the pain in his frame. It wasn't entirely inaccurate. Even behind his closed eyes, dozens of warnings continued to pop up, one after the other after the other, faster than he could shut them down. His frame was about ready to just collapse, what energy he had left flickering feebly in his circuits. They threatened to turn off at any second, at any twitch of movement, and his processor was spinning faster than he'd ever heard it.

He was an utter disaster, and he was alone. No back-up, no help, no escape.

Grid. He really was going to derezz here.

…no. No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. Not after everything he'd been through. He couldn't put Mara and Zed through losing another friend, not like they'd lost Bodhi.

He couldn't put Tron through that.

With a pained hiss, Beck rolled his head and opened his eyes. The deep red floor was stable, sturdy, hidden behind warnings but for slivers of color. He closed his eyes again, painfully pushing himself to his knees. His chest pulsed with white hot agony, echoed by his leg and everything else, and all he wanted to do was lay back down and fall into sleep mode, but he couldn't. He needed to get out of here.

The only question was, how? He opened his eyes, staring at the room past all his warnings. It was too much, too many things needing attention that he could do nothing about.

Well. He could do one thing.

He did the stupid thing: he shut it off. The last of his warnings faded out as he turned his internal alarms off, and with them the warning circuitry of pain. It was a dumb move; any program that did what he had just done would miss every warning, working themselves to deresolution or simply falling apart when their frame could no longer handle it. Still, it made it easier to breathe, to think, and Beck let his head drop for a moment. He had to get out of here, but how? Even if he could stand now, the cord his hands were attached to didn't give with tugging. He didn't have his disk, which was floating just out of his reach, and the tool shelf…Beck looked up at it, frowning. Maybe that would work. Dyson had left all his tools behind, including…yes. There it was.

The saw. Innocuous now, turned off as it was, but he knew just how sharp that blade was. His face was tight even without the pain sensors on, and he lurched back to his feet. Cubes—his code—crunched beneath his feet. It didn't hurt, but he could tell that his leg was about ready to cave in and collapse under him. Hopefully it wouldn't just collapse into cubes like it wanted to. Not until he could get out of here, at least.

With slow steps, Beck tugged on the energy cord as far as it would let him go. It strained, glowing brighter, bright enough that if he hadn't turned off his pain sensors, he knew he would feel his wrists burning. But just because he couldn't feel it didn't mean it wasn't happening, and he quickly turned, looking over his shoulder at the tools. His fingers were numb, clumsy, and it took three tries to grab the saw, a core-wrenching half-micro before he could get it on.

The sound of the blade would remain with him for the rest of his runtime. He inhaled hard, the air catching in his throat. His face pulsed, remembering pain that wasn't there anymore, and he turned the blade on the energy cord. He had to look away as sparks flew, energy against energy, bright in the dim light.

For a moment, he wasn't sure this was going to work. He wasn't sure that the cord would snap before it would burn through his wrists-

The cord snapped. The piece around his wrists dropped, the cuffs falling away as their energy supply dropped to nothing. The rest of the cord retracted with a snap, sparking energy on its way, knocking tools off the shelf. Beck quickly leaned back, dropping the saw as he fell to his side. Another rumble of thunder shook the ship, and for a moment he lay still.

"Well," he said quietly to himself, just to fill the silence a moment later "that didn't go so bad."

Even if he still sounded like he'd been gargling raw energy for a milli. All the screaming had done a number on him, but it felt good to no longer be tied to the column. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. Sure, he was still trapped in the room, but now he could defend himself again.

Well. Mostly.

With a quiet sigh, he took his disk from the hovering energy, turning it over in his hands. He stared at the white half for a long moment, brow furrowed, before he brought up his patching protocols. The display practically screamed at him, red with damage and warnings. Leg was nearly out of commission, chest was ready to cave in on itself, wrists were burnt in a way that he didn't want to see, let alone touch…

He was a mess. With a soft snort, Beck patched what he could, blue overtaking the black render of the Renegade's suit even as he docked his disk with a soft click. There was that handled, for the moment, and now he could fight back. That left only the lingering problem of escaping this situation.

He just had to get out of here somehow…but how? There were guards just outside the door, and patches or no patches, he knew he was in no shape to really fight them. Running a hand through his hair—the only thing that wasn't damaged—Beck frowned to himself.

What would Tron do in a situation like this, he wondered. No answer came, and he shook his head. Tron wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. He was more experienced than Beck; he wouldn't have allowed himself to be caught all. Beck's core lurched, shame heating his face. All that training, and he hadn't even been able to fend off Dyson. One program. He'd let his guard down and been captured. Tron never would have let that happen.

 _If he'd still be Tron to act like himself_ , the traitorous thought was loud, louder than the thunder. Beck frowned to himself, core lurching. He hadn't been able to think before, but now…his processor spun up, going over every nano of his time in the mobile repurposer. Had he made in time? Hadn't he? Tron had recognized him, had called him his own target, had fought alongside him…he had to be okay.

But then, Cutler had seemed just fine until he'd turned, too. Had known who Beck was, had sought him out and led him right into a trap. It wasn't a leap of logic to think about how programs could keep their memory past a repurposing. It was a terrifying reality, and just the thought of Tron being a sleeper agent against the Uprising made Beck's core lurch. Not just because it had been Tron's worst nightmare, but the idea of fighting his friend sent shivers down Beck's frame. Tron was healed, and had all his combat prowess. They hadn't finished Beck's training.

It was clear to Beck that, if Tron really had been repurposed, the Uprising was finished.

If there were even any of them left to begin with. Grid, that hurt to think about, too. But as much as he hated it, he had to face the facts: more likely than Tron being repurposed, he and the entire crew of the Garage, every last one of his friends, were gone. Derezzed. Nothing more than cubes buried in the rubble of what had once been their home. It hurt to even think about. He had gotten them into this, and now they were gone. Just like Able. If only he'd been able to keep them out, keep it a secret, they would still be around. They'd be safe.

Unable to handle the thought, Beck buried his face in his hands and shoved it into a low priority queue. He couldn't think like that. Not yet. He had to get out of here. That was priority one. With a steadying breath, he lowered his hands and looked back to Dyson's shelf of tools. His core lurched at the thought of using them, but he needed every advantage he could get. If he could just get out of here, get back into Argon, he knew he could find somewhere to hide. The storm would be cover enough, loud as it was. This kind of storm would keep everyone indoors rather than risk over-charging, so there wouldn't be any casualties. Another rumble of thunder rattled the ship, sending tremors through the floor beneath Beck's feet.

Hard tremors. Harder than before. The entire ship seemed to tremble, rocking for a moment and sending Beck to his hands and knees with a cry.

That wasn't thunder! That was an—

 **[Attention all programs,]** The Grid suddenly broke in as the lights flickered once, twice, and then went out. An alarm began to ring, echoing down the halls. **[There has been an explosion in the Fuel Containment Unit. Please proceed to your stations and await further instruction.]**

An explosion? Beck frowned, pushing himself back to his feet. His leg trembled, threatening to cave beneath him, but he forced himself to take steps towards the door. Underneath the alarm, he could hear footsteps and voices, just outside the doorway. Soldiers, modulated voices clicking in the way that all of the soldiers did, were ordering the guards away from here, to leave the prisoner and report to evacuation. He'd derezz anyway, one soldier shouted, they may as well save their own disks.

Clunking footsteps proved that the guards were in agreement. They quickly faded away, the Grid's message repeating as Beck took a steadying breath and raised a hand to the door. The emergency procedure had unlocked it, and it whooshed open quietly. Beck held his breath, waiting for a guard or soldier to shout…but the only sound was the klaxon overhead and the Grid repeating herself over and over.

If this was luck, he'd take it. Quickly peering down the hall—no red anywhere, and only the emergency lights to see by—Beck slipped out of the cell and moved as fast as his legs would carry him. Tesler's ship was a maze of corridors and doors, and he hadn't been awake to remember the way they'd taken him after his capture, but the hanger was above which meant he had to go up.

He had to go after the soldiers. Wasn't that ironic? Beck made a wry sound to himself, leaning heavily on a staircase railing as he made his way further up, the rain beginning to sound like a roar the closer he got to the surface. Thunder continued to rumble, slowly outpacing the volume of the siren, and he could just make out the flashes of lightning ahead. The storm was massive, wind howling and rain puddling into the hanger through the half open bay doors.

Not that it could do anything about the fire, quickly spreading through the back of the ship. Leaning on a railing, Beck stared. Energy blue flames were licking up the wall, high enough to reach the ceiling of the multi-tiered room, and showed no signs of stopping. Smaller blasts were rattling off as the flames reached grenade stores, programs running to and fro to salvage what they could, moving tanks, sending Recognizers out into the storm rather than have the flames claim, and trying to contain the fire.

Their efforts weren't working. The ship must have been full of fuel for the fire to rage so bright, so hot. He was honestly amazed the whole thing hadn't blown up yet.

But there was no time to waste. Pulling himself away from the sight, Beck turned to the stairs. If he was lucky, he could get out before anyone noticed he was there. It was dark enough that even being in his whites wouldn't really matter. If he was careful and took it slow, planned his route instead of running on ahead, he could make it.

No. He would make it. He just had to—

"Going somewhere?"

Beck whirled around, eyes wide. Dyson strode into sight from the shadows of the corridor Beck had just come down, face cast in odd contrast from the fire and the emergency lights. Beck could still make out his smile. "It's not nice," he said, "for guests to leave without saying goodbye."

"I think," Beck coughed, twitching as another explosion rattled the lower levels. That had sounded bigger than a crate of grenades… "I've overstayed my welcome."

"Nonsense," Dyson replied with another step forward, "We love having you here." He had his hands behind his back again, and a flash of lightning lit his entire face up. That was definitely a sneer, audible in his voice as he said, "You can stay. In fact…" He lowered his hands, tipping his head forward. "I insist."

Beck looked at him, then flicked his eyes to the hangar doors. If he could just make it there—

"Really, Beck." Dyson said, "Stay."

Beck turned back, glaring with every ounce of pain and annoyance he could muster.

"Sorry, but I'm going to be late for curfew."

Spinning on his heel, Beck leapt over the railing and to the level below. It was dumb, reckless, stupid—Tron would have had his disk for making a move like that on a leg that was so badly damaged already, but there was no other option. Another blast rattled the ship as he landed, sending Beck to his hands and knees. He struggled to get up.

"After him!" Dyson shouted from above. Programs spun around from their tasks, and then ran at him, disks kicking to life.

"Seriously!?" Beck groaned to himself, leg barely able to take his weight anymore as he forced himself to his feet. Didn't they have better things to deal with?!

With an awkward twist, Beck snatched his disk from his back as he turned, catching a guard in a stand-off. Dyson leapt down from above as Beck shoved the guard back, quickly throwing himself aside as three of them threw their disks at him in the same moment. If he didn't get out of here soon, he was really going to be derezzed!

Gritting his teeth, Beck grabbed at the railing and threw himself to the ground level, feet slipping in rainwater. He ran forward, heading for the hanger doors, only to skid to a halt as lightning flashed, backlighting a program who stood calmly in the chaos.

Clu was standing in the doorway, between Beck and freedom. He was smiling.

"Oh," Beck hissed, "that's not good."

He turned on his heel, processor spinning a kilometer a second as he tried to think, tried to plan—if he could get a Lightjet he could fly over Clu's head, fly into the city and get away—but before he could even take another step Dyson was there, fist flying right into Beck's face.

The young program cried out as the impact sent him reeling, slipping across a large puddle until he could no longer keep his feet and collapsed, dripping wet. He'd managed to keep his disk in hand, but it did no good. Dyson was too fast, too strong, and in moments he wrenched both of Beck's arms back behind him, holding him down.

"Did you really think," Dyson sneered, his breath hot on Beck's neck, "That we'd just let you walk out of here? That you'd escape?"

Beck grit his teeth, anger spinning in his core. He'd been so close! He could still see the blue of Argon in the distance, the city backlit by lightning flashing over the sea. The storm was leaving. Another blast rose behind him, but it was smaller, a crate of forgotten grenades rather than a Recognizer or tank. They were getting the fire under control.

Everything was under control. Even him. Ahead, Clu strode closer. Dyson reached up, yanking on Beck's hair until the young program was looking up at Clu, who crouched down and tilted his head.

"I can see why Tron chose you," He said, voice a mockery of kindness and sympathy, "But you see, you were never meant for this kind of thing, Beck." He reached down, patting Beck's surely bruised cheek. "You're not a fighter. You're just a mechanic."

Beck snarled. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" He spat out, no longer bothering to hold back his temper. A flash of lightning threw Clu's face into shadow, but he pulled his hand back and stood up.

"Dyson," He said, "Take our friend back to his room. Make sure he's…comfortable, this time."

"Of course, sir. Should I—"

Whatever Dyson was going to suggest died in his throat as Clu suddenly whirled around, yellow-lined robes whipping around his feet as he quickly sidestepped a disk that had been thrown at his head. Dyson leapt to his feet, grabbing at his disk as his leader stumbled back, staring with wide eyes at the hangar doors. Beck raised his head, looking up. Backlit by lightning, a single program stood in the entrance, hand extended to catch his disk as it returned. He didn't say a word, didn't even move, but everyone could make out his circuits in the darkness, what few of them there were. Blue-white in color, spread across heavy armor meant for combat. The only circuit of note burnt in the hollow of the program's throat.

A single, familiar emblem, made from four blue-white blocks. The mark of Tron.

"Tron…" Clu breathed, all control gone from his voice. Tron took a step forward. Clu took a step back.

Beck latched onto the chance with all he had, core spinning up fast with hope returning. Quick as he could, Beck rolled onto his back, slashing at Dyson's legs. The General yelled, stumbling backwards in pain before he fell over. Tron's single step turned into a run, his bright disk carving a path, forcing Clu back. Dozens of soldiers began to press forward, towards Beck and Tron at Clu's yelled order.

Tron was faster, hands under Beck's shoulders as he pulled him up.

"Run!" He shouted, pulling like he wasn't going to wait for Beck to make up his mind about staying or leaving. Not that there was much of a choice to make; with the last of his strength, Beck turned on his heel and ran after his mentor, out the hangar door and into the storm. As they skidded down the ramp, Beck chanced a look over his shoulder. Dozens of red-lined programs were pouring from the ship in hot pursuit, Clu a barely visible speck of gold in their midst. Beck turned back around.

"Tell me you've got a plan!" He shouted on ahead, only to have to scramble to catch a red-lined baton. It turned blue in his grip, and his core screeched to a halt as it registered a lightjet, two-seater and armed to the teeth. As plans went it was a good one, but—Tron slowed down, falling in behind Beck, right in the spot to take the gunner controls when the Lightjet rezzed.

Well, he'd already done a bunch of dumb things this milli. What was one more?

He cracked the baton, watching as the code spilled out around them. Wireframe became solid, the two-seater lifting off the hill and sending them flying out into the city as Tron peppered the ground behind them with shots, buying them time. Beck peered over his shoulder.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"You can thank Paige for that. She told me you'd been captured." Was Tron's reply as his helmet folded in to reveal his frown. "Though she didn't mention you were this badly hurt."

"She didn't see it." Beck swallowed hard, oddly grateful that Paige hadn't had to watch. He couldn't blame her for not coming to his aid. She'd have been stuck with him if she had, and that…he shook his head, turning his eyes back to the city. "Dyson didn't start until after they'd left."

"Dyson did that to you, then?"

Tron's voice could have frozen an energy fire. Beck shivered. It wasn't easy to forget what Tron had almost done to Dyson. Now...well. The longer he could keep those details a secret, the better. He opened his mouth to reply, only to stop as two blurs of red shot past him. The soldiers had found lightjets of their own and were still in pursuit. Beck shook his head, jackknifing towards the tallest towers of Argon.

"Long story," he said quickly, "I'll tell you when we're not about to get shot down!"

Tron's reply was a hail of gunfire launched at their pursuers, and more than one frame rattling explosion followed. One thing had to be said about Tron: he was a good shot. Chancing a look behind him, Beck grit his teeth. Three smoke clouds hovered in the airspace behind them, but at least a dozen more lightjets were still in pursuit despite Tron continuing his assault from the turret. Streaks of light whizzed past them as the soldiers fired in return, and Beck dove to avoid a long stream of the shots as they came too close to taking out the wings. The soldiers kept on them even as he doubled back to the city, Argon's familiar landscape a haven despite their chase. They lost two more jets in the highrises, and another three to Tron's steady shooting, but seven still chased.

It stood to reason one of them would get lucky. Beck yelped as a shot hit the windscreen just above his head, followed by two more to shatter the glass and shower them both with shards. Tron cursed and quickly retaliated, but it was clear they were outnumbered and were soon to be outmaneuvered. Beck looked both ways, saw two jets flanking on either side, and looked forward. If they didn't lose them now, they would—wait.

"How well could they know the area?" Beck called, the wind nearly ripping his words away.

"Not as well as a local!" Tron shouted back, turning his once again helmeted head to peer at Beck. "Why?"

"Trust me!"

He dove, closer to street level. With the soldiers everywhere, Argon was empty of civilians. The tight streets left him putting them nearly vertical, but there was no one to hit. He knew these streets like the back of his hand, and though he grit his teeth in concentration, focusing on nothing but the flight path ahead, he didn't hit anything.

The soldiers still chasing weren't quite as lucky. Two went down in fireballs as they dove too quickly. Another paid for his reluctance by eating laser fire. The remaining four tried to follow from above, tried to wait Beck and Tron out, but they were the targets the moment that Tron had a clear shot.

When Beck brought the jet back up, the skies were once again clear. He sighed, shoulders slumping.

"That's all of them," he said, slowing their speed. Behind him, Tron's frown was audible.

"For now. We need to land and find shelter before they—"

His words were lost as a sudden blast rattled the very air they flew in. Beck jerked his head around to look, watching with wide eyes as Tesler's ship went up into a blast of blue fire, dozens of smaller blasts shaking the hills around it. What had just—oh, no.

"Look out!" Tron shouted, just a moment ahead of the blast wave. Beck clung to the controls with all his wavering strength, trying to keep them upright, but it was no use. The shockwave hit with all the force of the blast itself. Alarms started going off, screens flaring with bright red light and no doubt sending off alarms that Beck just couldn't hear anymore. His frame was rattled, pain echoing down every limb as the jet began to spin. He grit his teeth, trying to wrench control back from the wild force that had sent them spinning, but it was no use.

Low as they were, so close to the city's industrial sector, impact came sharp and swift into the roof of a manufacturing plant.

Shutdown, at last, was mercifully swift.

—

Awareness returned with a distant bang, and cold rain on his face. Everything hurt, from his head to his toes, but Tron slowly opened his eyes. He stared at the storm clouds, still hovering above Argon. Rain. That would put out the fires. The fuel fire from the explosion, caused by the grenades he'd planted as a distraction.

Well. Thank Flynn that at least his plans still worked. With a soft groan, the old program forced himself up to his hands and knees, cubes crunching beneath them. The code was a mix of the building they'd crashed into and the lightjet they'd been flying, with no trace of program code. Obviously, he'd survived, but…where was Beck? Had he been thrown from the craft upon impact? Or had he…

"Beck!" He called out, coughing a moment later. His frame protested, loudly, but he pressed onwards. "Beck, can you hear me?!"

No response. His core went still. Had Beck not made it through? No. No, that couldn't have happened—he looked around wildly, searching for any hint of white—there! Still, unmoving, Beck lay in a heap in the corner. His lines were flickering feebly, patches torn and ragged. Tron's core restarted with a kick to his chest.

"Beck!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The blast wave is as dangerous, if not more so, than the initial fire of an explosion. And that is one way to really fuck up somebody's day. (this first arc was initially outlined as "Beck's no good, very bad, horrible day." and I am not at all sorry.)


	4. 00110100

Thunder rumbled, quieter than the Grid rattling booms of the early quarter milli. From his place high above Argon, command ship circling the city, Clu watched out the window with his hands behind his back. The energy fire in what remained of Tesler’s command ship still burned, vibrant blue flames cracking and leaping towards the clouds despite the pouring rain. It was hard to tell in all that chaos, but it looked to Clu that the main fuel tank had been breached—probably by one of the many smaller explosions—and that had just sent the entire thing into a fireball, destroying everything parked in the three kilometer radius of Argon’s highest point.

Of course, by the time that had happened, the command staff were long gone. They had all joined the hunt for Tron and his escaped apprentice, following from the ground as the pair flew above the city. He and Dyson had returned to the command ship to join the pursuit, but by the time they’d gotten airborne, the fire had spread too far. Almost fifty thousand of the troops in Argon, all of Tesler’s contingent and half of his own, were nothing more than fire scorched cubes. Tesler had lost his base and was now in the briefing room of the command ship, awaiting further instruction.

Honestly, if things kept up this way, he’d just send Tesler down and let Tron finish him off. For such a small city, Argon had far too many places to hide. Best to let the trash get taken out down there.

With a sigh, Clu rolled his shoulders back. If he stopped to think about it, it made sense that Tron had been hiding out here the entire time. Argon was tiny compared to even other edge of the Grid cities, and absolutely minuscule compared to the Capitol. No one, not even Clu, would have ever thought that Tron, Protector of the Grid, would hide in some backwater out in the middle of nowhere. It was good thinking.

It was annoying, and a waste of manpower. What remained of his forces were visible down below, a wave of red-orange combing the city door by door, the remaining light jets and recognizers flying search patterns. They were looking for dissidents, for signs of rebellion reckless enough to still be outside despite the storm and explosion.

They were looking for Beck and Tron.

Not that he was counting on finding those two so quickly. Tron knew decidedly well what Clu was after by now, and if the data he’d received from the mobile repurposer was correct, he’d stay hidden. He’d take his apprentice, disappear, and be gone for cycles. The thought made Clu frown, his core spinning faster and faster as the anger came again. Apparently sending Cutler to do the job just wasn’t good enough. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but here they were. The city would be scanned from corner to corner, Tron would likely never be found, and Argon would be under quarantine for the next five hundred cycles. 

He was going to enjoy what peace he could get while he could. 

Not that there was much of that to go around. He sighed quietly as the door swung open behind him, the hurried footsteps familiar even before the _[ident]_ protocol registered Dyson.

“Just once, Dyson,” Clu sighed a bit more loudly, “I wish you’d come to me with good news.”

“But then…I wouldn’t be doing my job, sir,” Dyson replied. It was old habit, an old game from the cycles before, and yet he sounded nervous. Raising an eyebrow, Clu turned around. His General wasn’t shaking, but his eyes were still wider than normal. He was…rattled. Again.

Tron seemed to have that effect on him.

With a wordless gesture, Clu turned back to look out at Argon. Dyson’s reflection in the glass watched him. “Let me guess,” He said, “Tron and Beck managed to dodge their pursuers and escape. Is that about right?”

With a grimace, Dyson’s reflection nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ve got squads looking for them, but…Argon’s twistier than I first thought.” His grimace deepened. “It’s taking longer than expected.”

Or maybe he wasn’t looking hard enough at all. Ever since Dyson’s first visit to Argon, the very mention of Tron had his General shaky, on edge. The idea of going out to _hunt_ for him likely had Dyson quaking in his boots. Clu just sighed again, hands coming to rest at the base of his spine.

“That’s alright. The checkpoints are manned around the clock now. They won’t get far.”

“Of course not, sir.” And if Dyson sounded relieved, neither of them drew attention to it. But when Dyson lingered rather than saluting and leaving the chamber, Clu turned his head just enough to let his face become visible. Dyson swallowed hard, then said, “Sir, if I may?”

“Of course, of course. What is it?”

“In the interrogation chamber, you seemed to recognize Beck’s designation.” Dyson paused for a moment, took a steadying breath, then said, “Did you…know him personally, sir?”

“Ah, that.” Clu inclined his head up, old memories flitting back. Beck and call. Second Tron. Damaging the code the moment he’d found a way to access it. One he’d managed to repurpose, but the other…He shook his head. “No, we never met. Flynn had planned to bring him on board, but that plan changed. It was just nostalgia.” He’d been so sure that plan of Flynn’s had derailed, but apparently he hadn’t done the job well enough. “It’s of no consequence. Tell me—has anyone discovered the cause of the explosion?

Dyson was silent for a moment, but then shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, sir. The one survivor has mentioned he saw grenades around the area before the blast, but he had to be put into an induced shutdown so the medics could work on him.” Not the most trustworthy source of information, then. Clu frowned, but nodded. It made sense. The blast had destroyed the power circuits, allowing Beck to free himself. When he hadn’t been able to escape, Tron had been close enough to come to his aid. It was a solid plan, he had to admit, for two programs acting on their own. And of course it had the added, if perhaps unexpected, bonus of removing half the convoy from play. Clu closed his eyes.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter.” He said finally, listening to the thunder and rain roar overhead. “We have bigger things to take care of.”

He heard Dyson take a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was steady.

“One more thing, sir. Programs are already talking about Tron appearing like that. Should we…”

“Let them talk.” With a final breath, Clu turned and stalked away from the window. “This is something we can use.”

——

The storm roared overhead, showing no signs of slowing down or fading away. Rain poured down as if someone had up-ended the Sea over the city, pooling in dips and creating a second roar as it drained into the tunnels and rushed out to Sea. The only real benefit was it kept the civilian populace of Argon inside, hiding away from the one thing that didn’t want them derezzed this cycle. 

Tron wasn’t a civilian. Despite the rain, he walked on, one foot in front of the other. He’d spent a very, very long time just outside of Argon in the cycles between the Coup and now; he knew the city, knew the streets well enough to know several routes through the back-end of the city that would take him safely to the Outlands without running into too many soldiers.

Of course, that had been before. Before Clu’s arrival, before the storm, before the explosion.

Before Beck had fallen into hard shutdown and not roused for anything. No amount of shaking, shouting, or trying to get him to stand had brought the young mechanic around, and so Tron had slung him over his shoulders and started walking. One foot after the other, corner after corner. Streets that would have taken micros on his single-seater bike felt like kilometers, rain streaking his helmet in the dim light of Argon’s back alleys. Every injury he’d taken between the destruction of the Garage and the explosion and subsequent crash ached as he plodded along, straining to keep his breath even and not overheat. He’d be useless in a fight if he didn’t stop and rest soon, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to get Beck somewhere safe before they were found.

Overhead, a Recognizer rattled past, flanked by two lightjets flying search patterns. In the distance, the throaty rumble of tanks on the highway played chase with the thunder and random explosions from the hill. Clu was pulling out all the stops in order to keep Argon under some semblance of control, and to search for the two of them. There had to be hundreds of programs out here, combing the streets. Tron coughed to clear his intakes, legs trembling. If it came to a fight…Users. They needed to get inside. Now.

The thought got stuck on repeat, carrying Tron towards the outskirts of Argon, towards the last residential block before the gates that Tesler’s forces had set up. There were no soldiers here, this area having obviously been swept clean already. And yet…something was wrong. 

Tron’s pace slowed as he came to a junction between four alleyways, the crossroad lit by a flickering pole and silent were it not for the _clicking_. The familiar, hated clicking of rectified programs. He stopped in the junction, looking around as, from the dark shadows, three red-lined sentries stepped closer. Three became six, six became twelve, until a rough semi-circle of guards blocked every route but back. Tron snarled beneath his helmet, reaching back to palm his disk. If he’d been alone, there wouldn’t have been a problem taking them all out even with all his injuries. But with Beck crashed across his back his options were limited. He could try to run back, double back through the tangle of dark streets, but he knew they would dog his steps and find him again with the pace he’d be able to keep like this, Beck’s added weight a hindrance to any retreat.

He refused to consider abandoning Beck to them. Bending slightly to compensate for the added weight, Tron took his stance. One sentry, clearly the leader of the group, shook his head. Then he gestured with one hand towards Tron, and the other eleven charged forward. Holding onto Beck with one arm, Tron spun out in a kick to knock three back, but another two were on him a nano later, hands scrabbling across his front, across his helmet, across _Beck’s_ helmet, and trying to take Beck from him. He yelled, a wordless sound, tightening his grip as he struggled.

Suddenly, a sentry screamed and collapsed into red cubes. A shimmering white disk whizzed past Tron’s head, curving around him to remove the head of a second sentry. The others all turned around to track it, and beneath his helmet Tron’s eyes widened. In the distance, behind the lead sentry, a dark-haired Siren stood in the darkness. Her white suit seemed to glow with a light of its own, her disk a star in her hand as she stared the sentries down. Eleven pairs of eyes watched her for a long moment, unsure, but then a sentry abandoned Tron and charged at her.

Soundlessly, she threw her disk again. The Sentry dodged, leaping into the air to come down hard on her, but she sidestepped and unhooked a baton from her thigh. It expanded into a staff, letting her catch his melee attack against the sturdy code. With a yell, she kicked out with one heeled foot and sent him reeling long enough to spin with the staff in hand. The sentry’s yell was cut off as he derezzed in a single blow, and then it was madness. Tron could barely keep track of her every twirl and spin, her pirouettes fast and her throws lethal. Soon, only the lead sentry was left, red disk glowing in his hand even as she used her staff to raise his chin.

“You won’t be hurting any more programs,” She began, deep voice thick with anger, “Your boss isn’t going to find things quite so easy this time.” The sentry’s silence was met with a steel-colored glare, and she jabbed his throat. He stumbled back, only to meet his end when she thrust her staff through his middle and out his port. His modulated yell echoed across the junction, lingering in Tron’s audio, and the Siren sighed.

“You just can’t get a good fight around here these days.”

“Are you sure you’re the one who should be saying that?” Tron spat, shifting his weight. One program was a much fairer fight, but he’d just watched her carve through a squad of sentries like they were gridbugs. He wasn’t going to let down his guard now. He watched as she shrugged, shrinking her staff back into a baton and docking her disk.

“Maybe, but Clu shouldn’t leave his forces quite so weak.” She said firmly, broad features turned in a snarl. She looked at him, caught sight of his stance and Beck over his shoulder, and stepped towards him. He stepped back, and she stopped to raise her empty hands. “It’s alright. My name is Ruby. I’m a friend.” She stated firmly, hands where he could see them. He stepped back further.

“The last Siren to say that nearly got us both derezzed.” He growled. She blinked, then shook her head.

“Lux was…” She sighed, “…look,” She stood up straighter, crossing her arms over her chest, “You don’t have the time to argue with me. Much longer like that, and your friend isn’t ever going to wake up again.” 

The thought may as well have been snow down his spine, washing away the surprise that she knew who he’d been talking about. He hadn’t wanted to consider it, hadn’t wanted to think that too long in shutdown would result in irreparable damage to Beck’s systems, but really faced with that outcome…he swallowed hard.

“What is it you want?”

“To help you,” She replied, gesturing over her shoulder as she stepped back, “Follow me. I know somewhere he can recharge.”

Without another word, as if she really expected him to follow, she turned her back and strode down the alleyway she had first appeared from. It was the way Tron had been going in the first place, and already he could see the Spire looming in the distance. If he had to, he could make a run for it. For now, he would follow her. And so he stepped forward, walking as quickly as he could manage, as she led him through the alley and down several turns, beneath overhangs and between tall buildings. Before too long, they entered familiar territory and Tron stopped in his tracks. The Siren kept going, palming open a doorway and looking back at Tron. He knew this place.

She’d brought him right back to the building where the mechanics were waiting. 

When he didn’t move, Ruby arched a dark brow at him. For half of another micro, he didn’t move. Ruby—and he’d swallow his own code if she didn’t have friends in there—knew where the mechanics were. It was an enclosed space. He’d have no chance of taking her out if she turned out to be a threat, not with her staff giving her a sweeping advantage inside such a small room. The thought made his core freeze again, but given the alternative…

He forced himself to move. She smiled softly, gesturing for him to go inside first. The apartment lobby was lit now, barricade strengthened and not a program to be found inside. The building was silent but for a few female-designate voices wafting down the stairs, soft footsteps and softer words as what had to be a half dozen other Sirens kept watch over the mechanics. Beck still over his shoulder, Tron watched as Ruby headed for the staircase.

“How did you find this place?” He asked, not folding his helmet back. She turned to look at him, head inclined.

“We’ve been watching you for a long time now. We knew where you were ever since the Garage collapsed.” Her placid face fell into a frown, brow furrowed. “Of course, that was something we weren’t expecting. It did take a little time to find where you’d gone afterwards.” She turned back, boots clicking on the stairs. “Still, this was the first safehouse we’d have chosen if we’d gotten to you first.”

And then she was halfway up the staircase, leaving him with no choice but to follow. He turned to look over his shoulder—Beck was still out of it, circuits dark and body unmoving—before he grit his teeth. No choice in the matter, then. With a steadying breath and his free hand on the railing, Tron took the stairs. On the next level, Ruby exchanged words with a pair of Sirens, both sitting on a small couch outside a row of apartments, before continuing to the next level.

Here it was even quieter, with only the storm overhead and rattle of Lightjets for sound. Without looking back once, Ruby led him to an apartment, closest to the rooftop access door, and palmed it open. He watched her for a moment, and she turned back to look at him. She inclined her head.

“It’s not a trap. I swear on my disk, we’re here to help you.”

Help, or do more damage and send them to Clu instead? Tron shifted his weight, Beck a limp figure on his back. He hated it, but there was no choice. 

“If you’re not,” He growled even as he stepped forward, “It really will be your disk.”

Ruby just nodded, letting him step into the apartment before stepping in behind him. It was a simple apartment, meant for two programs. Two sleep-bunks were in their alcoves on either side of the room, a small table with a carafe of energy between them, and a small desk set beneath the one window. It was quiet, quaint, and defensible. 

Forcing himself to take a steadying breath, Tron slowly lowered Beck to one of the bunks. The young program didn’t stir, even when Tron activated his helmet’s release. There was no change, his burns and gashes just as bad as they’d been after the crash. Users…Beck needed a healing chamber, not a bed! Tron grit his teeth, turning as Ruby stepped into his line of sight. A glass of energy glowed in her hands, and she met his gaze head on.

“This is the best we can do.” She held it out to him, pressing it to his hand. “He needs to drink it.”

For a moment, paranoia warred with need. Tron stared at her, processor spinning over and over the thousand ways this could be a trap. They were both injured, the energy could be toxic, viral. There was no telling if this would work at all. 

There was no choice. 

Biting back a growl, Tron took the glass and crouched by Beck’s head. Gently, he lifted the young program up, cautiously managing to get the energy down where it needed to go. Immediately, the least of his injuries began to heal as his lines strengthened in glow, casting a soft light around the bunk-alcove. Tron sighed, too quiet to be heard outside of his helmet. Taking his silence for concern, Ruby offered him a small smile.

“He'll be alright. He's strong."

"How do you know?" Tron asked, suddenly unsure. He’d seen programs fall to lesser injuries than this, but she didn’t seem worried at all.

"He's with you." Ruby smiled, dark eyes twinkling. "That's enough to say he is." She looked down, gently running a finger down the dim circuit on Beck's leg, knee to shin. It glimmered beneath her touch, glow strengthening against her dark skin. "And I saw him survive the Games. Not just any program can do that in a city like this."

That was accurate. Surviving Clu’s games was a greater feat, but for Beck to have survived Tesler’s games and escaped intact…he had long since admitted that was a point to be proud of. And he really had been so proud of Beck for surviving, even if the young program hadn’t seen the good in it at the time. Beck had learned a lot since then. Hopefully he’d get to use that knowledge again.

Hopefully they’d be able to get out of here. Shifting his weight, Tron frowned at her.

"Why are you helping us?" he asked as he stood up, arms crossed over his chest. “If Clu finds out you’ve done this, you’ll be tortured and derezzed.” 

Seemingly unfazed, she simply turned her smile on him.

"That’s a chance we’re willing to take.”

“We?”

“Did you really think it was only your rebellion out here?"

She stepped forward before he could answer, leaning in close. He stiffened as she leaned her forehead against his helmet, hands on his chest.

"Yori lives."

——

Eyes closed, Paige listened to General Tesler pace. Back and forth, from one end of Clu’s briefing room to the other. There were no windows to stare out of here, and Pavel had already fallen into sleep mode standing up beside her. Despite her own exhaustion and aches from the milli’s events, Paige was too hyped up to rest. Her processor kept going over and over the milli, from the fight in the plaza to the explosion of Tesler’s ship. The shockwave had taken out a good chunk of Argon’s taller buildings, shattering glass for blocks. They were lucky that programs hadn’t been hurt in the chaos.

Well. Mostly. So many were just gone, and the talk among the survivors was that Beck hadn’t broken out alone. A rogue program had helped him, one that no one wanted to name.

Paige knew it was Tron. She knew the stories of his time on the Old System; no other program would have tried something so reckless. She’d have bet her entire energy ration that he’d been the one to set the explosion, as well. It had proven wonderful cover for their escape, being that there had been no sign of either Beck or his “unknown help” when they’d reached the building his lightjet had crashed into. Hundreds of programs were now searching, but she knew they wouldn’t be found.

Or at least, she forced herself to hope. Standing with her back to the wall, Paige wasn’t sure if she should have been relieved or worried. She settled on placid, keeping her thoughts to herself. Despite his injuries, Beck had managed to escape recapture. For how long, she couldn’t say, but for now he was free. Somehow the thought was more comforting than it should have been.

Especially considering that after the first group of pursuers had returned with nothing to show for their search, the three of them had been bustled into the briefing room and not been allowed to leave. No one had said anything other than “Wait for further instruction”, and it was making her nervous. They had no reason to suspect her of anything, but at the same time, she had no reason to believe that Clu’s forces—or Clu himself—would be any better than Tesler. The thought put acrid energy in her throat, and she swallowed it back. 

At least standing next to Pavel was easier this time, what with him being in sleep mode. She was half tempted to hook an ankle out and knock him down, but in the end thought better of it. She didn’t want to wake him and get into an argument on so little downtime….even if it was tempting.

With a minute shake of her head, she forced herself to take a quiet breath. Her too-long uptime coupled with the late system time was making her nervous. Beside her, Pavel shifted in his sleep, wounds patched and already half closed. The lucky glitch could probably sleep through anything at all, unlike his counterpart. At least one of them would have no trouble entering sleep mode after this.

She was jolted from her thoughts as the door finally slid open, Pavel jolting to awareness as Clu stepped into the room with Dyson at his heels. Neither of them looked at all worn down, and in fact, Clu almost looked amused. For some reason, that put ice in her core and she held herself straight. Clu stepped into the center of the room, nodding at each of them in turn as they saluted. After putting them at ease, he clasped his hands behind his back.

“By now, I’m sure you’ve all heard of our prisoner’s escape.” He said casually, ignoring Tesler’s soft growl and Pavel shifting his weight to look at his fellow Commander. Paige kept her eyes on Clu as he continued to speak. “And, of course, that he had an ally. Sadly,” He sighed, “They’ve managed to escape into Argon and slip away.”

“Sir. The three of us can be back out there in nanos. Just give the word—” Tesler said, only to be interrupted by Clu holding up a hand.

“While I appreciate your initiative, General, that’s not why I’m here.” He lowered his hand and looked the three of them over. Did his gaze linger on her, Paige wondered, or was he just lost in thought and at the end of his motion? She tried not to breathe, not to swallow. Her core stuttered as he continued, “I’m here because the three of you need to be brought up to speed on something. Something that I don’t want leaving this room.”

For half a nano, Paige and Pavel shared a sideways look. Something classified like that was above their unit and yet…they turned back to Clu in the same nano, bowing their heads and speaking in unison with their General, though none of them could keep all the surprise out of their voices.

“Of course, sir.”

Clu wasn’t smiling when Paige looked back up, his eyes on the floor as if searching for the words. Nanos ticked by, one after the other, but just when Paige was starting to wonder if he’d say anything at all he raised his head. 

“Tron lives.”

They all stared at him, Pavel now wide awake. Paige blinked once, trying to play at surprise, while internally she shook and quaked in her boots. She’d guessed, of course, because between the fight in the plaza and what the masked program had said to her, who else would have charged the ship with two generals and Clu inside it, but to know for sure…Grid. He’d lied to them this entire time! What else was he lying about? Had Tron been right? Had the ISOs been destroyed by Clu for a different reason than peace?

Was Clu corrupting the Grid?

She didn’t have time to pursue the traitorous thought. Tesler shook off the surprise and took a single step forward.

“Sir, that’s just propaganda spread by seditious programs—Tron’s gone. You said it yourself: you killed him.”

“Unfortunately, Tesler,” Clu said with a sigh and a sideways look at Dyson, who looked away as if scolded, “That’s not entirely true. Tron was brought into custody and escaped soon after.” He sighed again, spreading his hands. “He’s been biding his time ever since. Which brings me to the here and now.” He began to pace, one boot in front of the other, down the small line the three Argon commanding programs made. “I’ve new orders for you, and these take priority.” One more step, and he turned to Tesler.

“I want Tron captured. And I want you to do it.”

Paige’s core sunk. That wasn’t just an order to capture Tron, the strongest fighter the Grid had ever seen, it may as well have been a signed execution order for Tesler. In all the cycles they’d been in Argon, they’d never been able to capture Beck, half-trained if that. How were they supposed to manage to capture Tron of all programs? Tesler swallowed hard; he knew how much of a lost cause this would be, but there was no choice. Refusing would be worse.

“…Of course, sir.”

And just like that, the trap was sprung. Clu’s eyes glimmered, and from the corner of her eye, Paige could see Dyson smirk.

“I’ll leave this in your hands, Tesler,” Clu said, “Use whatever means you see fit. But I want them both alive.” He fixed Tesler with a firm look, something in his eyes making Paige want to run and hide. “If either of them is derezzed, it’ll be your disk I come for instead.”

To his credit, Tesler only swallowed hard. “Of course, sir. I understand.”

“Good. Now,” Clu stepped away, hands clasped behind his back. “There’s one more thing I have to take care of in Argon, but it shouldn’t take long.” He smiled warmly. It still put snow down Paige’s spine. “We’ll be out of your way by the time another triple passes. In the meantime…” He looked back at them, the overhead light casting his face in shadow.

“Good luck.”

And then, with as much fanfare as he’d had when they’d walked in, Clu and Dyson walked out of the room. The tension lingered in their wake, and Paige looked at Tesler. He was staring at the doorway, not looking as Pavel tilted his head, ignoring the glare Paige suddenly turned on him, and opened his mouth to say something.

But then Tesler narrowed his eyes at the door.

“You two, with me.” He stepped forward, cape swaying behind him. “We have an announcement to make.”

—

Awareness returned slowly, black fading to gray to color. Dim colors. The lights were out. It had to be late, wherever he was. At least it wasn’t red. Closing his eyes, Beck took stock.

There was pain, distant like a triple’s old ache but lingering, covered in the half-familiar chill of a cooling blanket. He was laying on something solid that had just a little give. A sleep-bunk, then. Somewhere safe? At least it wasn’t the ship. 

“How are you feeling?”

Tron. Beck’s eyes snapped open, his head turning towards the voice, and the program that owned it. Sitting there, elbows on his knees and hands clasped between them, more tired than Beck had ever seen him, was Tron. His circuits—what few there were, in tiny flecks at every joint—were a dull blue-white, dimmed with clear signs of exhaustion. A patch rested just above his hip, but he was otherwise uninjured. Beck swallowed hard.

“Great,” Terrible. “How’s your cycle been?”

“About the same.” Tron’s shoulders sagged a bit. “About the same as everyone else’s.”

“Great.” Beck closed his eyes. Wait— “Everyone else’s?” He made to sit up, to rise, but a sharp pain whited out his vision and sent him nearly toppling from the bunk. He had half a second to think that this was going to hurt, before there were hands on his shoulders.

“Easy, easy,” Tron said, more a whisper than words, “ Just relax—” Tron gently lowered him back down to the bunk, “Everyone’s alright. No casualties.”

Relief, sharper than a disk, carved through Beck’s circuits. No one had derezzed. He harbored no thoughts that they’d all escaped the blast uninjured, but they were still functional.

It was honestly the best thing he could have hoped for.

“Thank Flynn for that,” he whispered, slowly bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. 

“For a lot of things,” Tron said with an odd note in his voice. Beck peered through his fingers, but Tron just looked tired, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked fine, but Tron had always been hard to read. It had been annoying before, but now with Dyson’s words caught up in his core on repeat like a bad read, it was downright concerning. He looked fine, but was he?

Beck didn’t have the energy to ask. Not right now. Slowly, he lowered his hand back down. The silence stretched between them, not entirely uncomfortable, before Tron he shook his head.

“Though I don’t want to know how you made it with wounds like that. Your pain sensors should have kept you immobile.”

With a sheepish smile, Beck turned away.

“They tried. I just turned them off.”

For a moment, Tron said nothing. Then, with a wry chuckle, he stood up.

“You really are too much like me.” Tron said softly as he pulled the fallen blanket back up over Beck's shoulders, his hand lingering there for just a moment. There was something unreadable on Tron's face, something Beck couldn't quite place. After a moment, Tron shook his head. He squeezed Beck's shoulder.

"Get some rest. I'll be here."

The implied "We'll talk later", added to his exhaustion, finally allowed Beck to close his eyes, and drift off into Sleep Mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Ruby is indeed named for the programming language, even though it didn’t exist until 1995 and therefore Flynn couldn’t have known about it. /shrug


	5. 00110101

In the cool post-storm air, Argon was quiet. Not silent by any means, dozens of lightjets and recognizers flying over the city in search patterns, but quiet. Under normal circumstances, it would have been the new kind of peaceful.

But these weren’t normal circumstances. 

Standing hidden under the awning that shielded the rooftop access door from rain, Tron took a deep, steadying breath. It was the start of the upcycle, and programs within the buildings nearby were supposed to be beginning to rouse, to pull themselves from sleep mode and get on with their runtimes as if it were any other milli, Argon coming alive with the blue of interior lights coming on as the city seemed to pull herself from Sleep. 

Except the streets were empty. No one so much as stuck their head out a window, blinds drawn in every apartment, doors locked down the entire block. The soldiers had swept through this part of the city nearly two full millis ago, and still no one dared to come out. This near silent terror, the fear that permeated Argon…things weren’t supposed to be this way. Tron sighed quietly to himself, arms crossed over his chest. He closed his eyes. 

“Shouldn’t you still be resting?” He asked, feeling amusement bubble as Beck inhaled sharply, the near silent whoosh of the access door closing behind him only mostly covering the spooked noise. 

“How did you know it was me?”

Who else would it have been? Tron smiled slightly to himself, opening his eyes and looking out across the rooftops. Dots of red were beginning to appear closer to the city center as soldiers began to search once more. At least they weren’t close.

“You’re favoring your leg.” He turned his head as Beck slowly walked up to stand beside him, injured leg held slightly off the ground and cooling blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders. Despite his time in sleep mode and the softened edges to his injuries, the young program still looked downright terrible. Tron frowned. “You should still be resting.” 

Beck grimaced. “…can’t. The memories keep replaying.” Tron didn’t have to ask. His core lurched as he watched Beck duck his head, eyes closed and voice tiny. “…Does it…ever get any easier?” 

No. He turned back to the hills, gripping his arms tightly. “With time,” He forced himself to say, “With time, it’ll get easier to stop repeating.”

“Or maybe I just don’t ever sleep again,” Beck snorted, shaking his head once, “Keep busy.” 

“You can’t outrun bad memories forever,” Tron responded softly, not sure if he was trying to convince himself or his friend. “All that’ll do is slow you down. No,” He looked at Beck once more, to meet the young program’s eyes. Beck looked so tired, so lost, that not for the first time Tron cursed himself for getting him so involved. Able had been right, like always. Beck shouldn’t have been facing threats like Dyson or Clu, shouldn’t have had to deal with any of this. But here he was, somehow still standing. “It’s better to face them head on, whether or not you’re ready.” 

“Did that work for you?” Beck asked, still in that softly lost tone. 

“After a while,” Tron sighed, closing his eyes. It had taken a very long time before he’d been able to move on, to at least stop thinking about it all the time. He took a deep, steadying breath. “It takes time, Beck. A long time.” And help. Friends. “It isn’t just your frame that may not heal.” 

“It’s your core.” 

Beck sounded so impossibly young that Tron finally reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the tension in Beck’s frame, and with a quiet sigh pinged [ _comfort/safety_ ] down his circuits as best he could. 

“You’ll be alright.” He said after a moment, “We’ll figure this out.”

“How?” Beck asked, though he didn’t shrug off Tron’s lingering hand. “And it’s not just my injuries—Clu and Dyson know you’re here. They’ve probably told Tesler by now, and what do we have to fight that? The suits on our backs, a handful of sirens, and nearly sixty untrained programs?” Beck frowned. “That sounds an awful lot like square one of standing on a cliff to me.” 

“Beck…” Tron sighed, shaking his head. He had to admit: he’d faced better odds before. Even on the Old System, things had never looked quite so bad. The MCP’s forces hadn’t been this massive, and the MCP itself had never been nearly as intimidating as Clu. Never been quite as smart, or forward thinking. Clu knew him. Knew the system. Fighting back against that, with just sixty programs…it wouldn’t be easy. He’d known that going in. Before victory, there would be setbacks. “We’re all still intact. We’ll make it work. Before victory, there will be—” 

“Setbacks, I know,” Beck finished with a sigh, finally pulling back to sit on the roof. He pulled his good knee up, bad leg stretched out in front of him. “It’s just…” He plunked his head down on his knee, staring out over the hills as Tron slowly lowered himself down to sit beside him. “This feels a lot more than a setback. How are we supposed to do this?” 

“The same way we did before,” Tron said, crossing his legs. “We press on, no matter the obstacle. The rest…” He shrugged. “We’ll handle it as it comes.” 

Beck was silent for a long moment, watching red begin to crawl up the hills as the soldiers pressed on their patrol, looking for any signs of dissent. Then he closed his eyes.

“You mean…you’ll handle it.” 

Tron blinked. “What?” 

In response, Beck reached back under the cooling blanket, palming his disk with a quiet click. Tron stared, unsure of what he was seeing as Beck twisted the two halves of his modified disk apart, holding onto them for a second longer before holding the white half out to Tron. 

“Here,” he said, “This is yours.” 

Tron blinked, startled. He looked from the familiar half of his disk to Beck, then back again. Beck was…giving up the suit mod? That couldn’t mean— 

"What are you talking about?" 

"You said it yourself: those scars kept you out of the fight. They're healed now." He sighed, smiling wryly. "You don't need me to be you anymore." 

Ah. So that’s what this was. Tron reached over, gently pushing Beck’s wrist back towards his body. 

"Beck. My being healed doesn't change anything. I chose you to carry on my name, my legacy.” He paused, thinking quickly before continuing, “And unless you’re giving up after one setback, you are still in this fight." 

Beck jolted. "That's not--this isn't some little setback!” He yelled, “I let him grab me! They all know the truth now!" He stopped with an explosive sigh, a vice grip on both halves of his disk. Tron shook his head again. 

"We didn’t finish your training, and Dyson has hundreds of cycles of experience on you right now, to say nothing of Clu.” The name caught in his throat, a growl more than a word. He swallowed his anger, barely managing to keep his voice calm. “It's not your fault. Besides." He shook his head to dislodge the fury, then smiled softly, proudly. “You survived. You got away almost entirely on your own. Not even I could do that.” 

“I didn’t—it wasn’t…” Beck tightened his grip on the halves of his disk, the code along his palms glowing blue in protest. “…I thought you’d be angry with me. That I got caught.” 

“Angry? Beck, I’m proud of you!” He let go of Beck’s wrist, reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder instead. Beck looked up, eyes wide with unhidden shock and stared as Tron continued, “You were captured, held in an impossible situation without backup, and you still managed to get free with all your limbs still attached.” Tron smiled, a small thing but warm all the same. “You did good. It’s okay.” 

Watching all the fight drain out of Beck was like watching a tank drain empty. Beck’s shoulders slumped, his grip on his disks relaxing as he bowed his head, voice nearly whisper soft. "He knows everything now. Clu knows about you." 

"He’d known for a long time already,” Tron replied as he squeezed Beck’s shoulder, transmitting a [ _cease/relax/comfort_ ]. Impossibly young, had thrown himself headfirst into this mess, and now he had to pay for it. For all Tron had said that his actions had consequences, and for all he’d tried to drive the point into Beck’s code, he didn’t enjoy this. It actually hurt, his core twisting into a knot. “We'll figure something out." 

"...I'm sorry." Beck whispered, pulling his knee up higher, hiding his face in it. Tron shook his head, squeezing Beck’s shoulder again.

"It's okay."

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. But being sorry wasn’t going to change anything or roll back the clock. Slowly, Beck raised his head to look out over Argon once more. Whatever he saw there, across the blue-lit rooftops and distant hills, Tron couldn’t say. He pulled his hand back, listening to the rain and the soft sound of Beck reconnecting his disk to his port. They sat in silence for a time, the remnants of the storm pattering overhead and all around as a few micros ticked by. Argon remained still, quiet except for the roar of lightjets overhead and bikes on the highway. It would be a while before the search was ended and the lockdown lifted. Probably another milli if not longer, and even then there would be more setbacks to come. Things weren’t alright. But eventually, some small part of Tron’s process whispered, they would be.

The hope returned to his core. This time, he let it sit there. 

"So...what now?" Beck asked softly a few micros later, flicking his eyes up. 

"We keep training. Like I said: we have a lot of work to do." Tron replied, eyes on the city. There were another fifty-eight programs worth of work to do, and that was if they could keep them all alive long enough to do it. Tron took a steadying breath; the rain may have stopped, but the storm wasn’t over. Overhead, thunder rumbled again. Distant, the storm moving on out over the Outlands. He pushed himself to his feet, then reached down to help Beck up. “For now, though, you need to get more rest.” 

“Tron—” 

“I mean it.” With a gentle push, Tron turned Beck around, back towards the access door. “Back to your bunk. You won’t be training anyone with a leg like that.” 

“Will you just--Tron—” Beck tried to protest again, but he couldn’t gather his footing and was forced to walk. Tron smothered amusement in his core as they hit the stairs and Beck was finally able to hit his still limping stride, turning over his shoulder to hit Tron with a lackluster, tired glare. He wasn’t impressed, but he had to give Beck a point for effort and be glad that his friend had enough energy to be angry in the first place. 

He’d come too close to deresolution just a milli before. Tron didn’t want to think about what that had meant. For so long, he’d been ready to wage the Revolution without Beck. But now, after all that had happened, he couldn’t imagine a Grid without the young program. Grateful as he was that he wouldn’t have to just yet—and thank all Users for that—the thought had wedged into his core and wouldn’t get out as he watched Beck limp back to the door of their shared apartment, only to stop as a dark-skinned Siren stepped up from the level below. Beck paused, watching her with narrowed eyes. 

“Beck,” Tron sighed, “This is Ruby. She’s…” Not a friend, but an ally. Beck looked between them for a moment, frame angled towards Tron. He shook his head. “Trustworthy.”

Ruby just smiled. “Something like that, I suppose,” She said, quirking an eyebrow up at Tron. He frowned at her in return, but she wasn’t at all fazed. She looked to Beck, then gestured over her shoulder at a nearby door. 

“Your friends have been looking for you.” Reaching back, she palmed the door open, allowing Zed and Mara’s voices within to come into the hall. It sounded like they were in the middle of an argument. Probably not their first. Beck held still for a moment, but then looked back at him with his intentions written across his face. Tron hesitated for a moment; sooner or later, they would have to find out, have to be told. He’d just expected it to be later, much later. But then, it wasn’t up to him. Not anymore. He inclined his head. 

“It’s your decision. I’ll defer to your judgment on this one.” 

Beck smiled, just a little, and ducked into the room. The door closed behind him, and Tron turned to Ruby. She inclined her head. 

“So,” She began, “Have you decided yet? To stay or to come with me?” 

Tron looked at her. _Yori lives_ still echoed down his core, and Ruby’s offer…he closed his eyes. 

“….yes. I have.”

——

Argon nearly boiled with red. What remained of Clu’s forces were now taking Argon by storm, checking door by door for any sign of Beck or his cohorts. It would be messy, dangerous, and anything but quiet, but that was alright. Tesler had tried nice and look where that had gotten him. Full lockdown of his city and a hundred programs already captured for trying to leave. The games would be full this milli, if they ran at all. 

Standing in the observation deck of his command ship, Clu rolled his shoulders. Nice wasn’t going to solve anything. Tesler had tried it, Clu himself had tried it…if Tron wanted to hide among the common programs and let them pay for his inaction, that was his decision. Clu wouldn’t lose any downtime over it. And what were a few more programs to keep the Grid safe? He’d disposed of more threats in his first cycle as System Administrator than there were programs in Argon. It was a shame to have to do it again, but it was what was necessary to keep the Grid safe. Where one program had started a rebellion, dozens more would follow like the spreading of a virus. 

No, no. He could save some. Likely more than a few would have to be relocated to other cities, but the majority would become necessary casualties. Such was the way of things. He sighed quietly, watching a recognizer as it tracked two bikes down the highway, fleeing from his soldiers. Not Beck and Tron, just programs out after curfew. A Games sentence with them, and all would be well. 

Well. Most of it, anyway. Standing beside him, Dyson shifted his weight. Clu inclined his head in wordless invitation to speak, and his right hand program turned his gaze out the window. 

“Sir, when Beck is recaptured…what are you planning to do with him?” he asked, voice oddly quiet, “Public execution?” 

“And offer someone a chance to save him, or make a martyr out of him?” Clu smiled. “No, no. I have plans for Beck, Dyson.” Big plans. Plans that would have had Flynn running for the hills, running back to the User world with no looking back. “But I’m going to let them make the next move. We’ll go from there.” 

And while Dyson didn’t seem pleased with this turn of events, likely wanting Beck to suffer the way Tron had made him suffer, he nodded.

“Of course, Sir.” 

And that was the end of that. Dyson resumed his post nearby while Clu continued to watch out the window as his loyal soldiers combed the city. He doubted they’d actually find Tron and Beck, sure that Tron had taken his apprentice to ground by now, but the sheer amount of programs would keep anyone from siding with Beck after Tesler’s upcoming announcement. Clu let himself smile; maybe Tesler was worth keeping around after all. 

A cacophony drew his attention from the window, yelling and the sounds of a struggle becoming louder as one of his honor guard opened the door, three of his fellows dragging in a young program by the arms. It wasn’t Beck, Clu could tell right away, which meant…ah. So they had found him. It took more than a bit of struggle to get his asset into the room and shut the door, but it wasn’t long before the three honor guard had managed to get him inside and dumped their captured quarry on the ground. Clu stepped towards them, watching as his honor guard quickly stepped back as the captive rolled to his feet and lunged. His hands were locked behind his back, energy cuffs glowing painfully bright as he struggled to get them off, tugging and pulling despite how it must have burned his code. Still he charged at the nearest member of Clu’s honor guard, but before he could get there Dyson shot forward. He caught the young program by the shoulder, pulling him down hard onto his port. All of the programs circuits, both the standard energy lines on his body and the design carved onto his face, enough lines to have most Basics mistake him for an ISO, flickered as he gasped in pain and went still. Clu strode forward to stand over him, head tilted. 

Cyrus really had seen better cycles. While his injuries were nothing like Beck’s or even Tron’s, the program was damaged, circuits cut. He turned to the honor guard, who simply shrugged. Nothing of real interest to report, then. Clu looked back in time to see Cyrus regain his rhythm and stare back up at Clu, blinking once, twice, three times. Then he laughed, long and hysterical, leaning his head back even as this leaned more weight on his port and hands. 

“I should have known,” He finally said, when he’d recovered his composure. Laughter kept his tone light, but with it’s damaged modulation it was almost sickening to listen to. Clu arched a brow, still looking down at his former asset. Cyrus shook his head side to side. “As soon as I saw all those ships, I should have known.” He opened his eyes, glaring up at the ceiling. “You’re here for Tron.” 

There was enough hatred in his voice, enough that if Tron had been there even he’d have been surprised, that Clu leaned back and looked at Dyson. They exchanged a look for a long moment, before Clu looked back to Cyrus and crouched down. He schooled his face into a soft smile as he shifted his weight, cloak pooling around him as he leaned on his knees. 

“Actually, Cyrus, I wanted to talk to you about someone else.” Cyrus blinked, staring at him. Clu inclined his head and said, “I think you know him. His name is Beck.” 

Cyrus’ answering smile was all teeth. It was all the answer Clu needed.

——

They didn’t even know he was in the room. Beck padded forward down the tiny entrance hallway into another borrowed apartment, one of many in this building, as Mara and Zed argued in front of him. 

Or rather, as Mara paced in front of the window and Zed watched her, back to the doorway. Beck stopped to watch them, leaning against the wall.

"We have to find Beck, Zed." 

"I know, but--Mara, stop and think for a second." He reached out, not touching her by virtue that she sidestepped away from his hands, "The city is over-run with soldiers. If we go out there, we’ll only get ourselves caught. And I don’t think they’re dealing out Games sentences anymore.”

“No, but—”

"Beck's smart. He'd have found a safe place and stayed there.” Zed paused for a moment, his face hidden from Beck’s sight. “And if he didn’t, then…” He sighed shakily, “If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t want us to derezz out there looking for him.”

Mara whirled on her heel, eyes wide, “Zed—”

“Is right,” Beck broke in, smiling as they both jumped nearly a foot straight into the air. Zed yelped, stumbling as he tried to turn and nearly fell over the little table between the bunks, while Mara reached back for her disk instead. Beck spread his one free hand in a gesture of peace. “He is. You’d only get yourselves derezzed if you went out there now.”

“It would have been worth it,” Mara hissed, stalking over as Zed struggled to right himself. For a moment Beck was sure she was going to shake him until his core rattled, but then she stopped, one foot still in the air. Her eyes went wide again. 

"Oh, frag me--Beck!"

Oh. Right. He still looked like he’d gone five rounds with a code shredder. He shrugged a little, grimacing as it pulled on his patch. 

“It’s…not as bad as it looks?” He tried. Mara shook her head, closing the distance and reaching up to him. 

"You're hurt…" Mara cupped his face with her hands, thumbs drifting beneath two red-green burns, just below his eyes. He reached up, putting a hand on her arm just below her elbow, pinging [ _calm_ ] down her circuits in an attempt to soothe her. She just narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm alright," he said, voice sounding soft and tired even to his input. "You should see the other program." 

“If they’re anything like you, I don’t want to!” Zed shouted, coming over to stand closer to Beck’s bad side. That was Zed, always supportive even if he didn’t know it. Beck smiled awkwardly, cheeks still aching. “Where were you? What happened to you?” 

_I was fighting a war_ , Beck thought to himself, even as the memory of pain bouncing down circuits, carving across his frame, rose up—he shook his head. “You really don’t want to know,” Beck said with a sigh, squeezing Mara’s arm as she dropped her hands from his face. “Are you two…” He looked at his oldest friends, eyes roving over their frames. Both had scratches, and there were lingering traces of blue by Mara’s hair, but neither were in his kind of condition. Still…”Are you alright?” 

“Us?” Mara yelped, “Us? Are we—did you hit your head? Are we—” 

“We’re fine,” Zed broke in, putting a hand on Mara’s shoulder. “We already got Energy and rested. Just…” he looked at Beck, and something passed through his eyes, something like knowledge or understanding. Beck frowned as Zed continued, “Tired, I guess. It’s been a long milli.” 

“You have no idea,” Beck sighed. 

“Oh, I think we can guess,” Mara huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She leaned in, eyes narrowed. “Of all the cycles for you to miss your shift, you just had to pick the one where everything goes south, didn’t you?” She tried to keep a stern face, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Beck smiled just a little, looking sideways. 

“You know me. Bad timing’s in my code.” 

Zed laughed, only to stop as the lights flickered. The three of them looked up, mirrored frowns in triplicate across their faces. The lights flickered again, then went out with a loud whump noise. Programs in other apartments screamed. The door sprang open, Beck whirling around on his heel before Tron stepped in, helmet back on and circuits dim. 

“Downstairs. Now.” Tron said, guiding Beck with a hand on his elbow. Mara and Zed called out after him, barely able to see who was taking their friend away, and they quickly fell into pace behind him. Mechanics poured out of the other apartments as red blew past the windows, Recognizers with the engines on full thrust loud enough to shake the building. Programs screamed in fear, sure that they’d been found.

_“Citizens of Argon!”_ Tesler’s voice rose over the din, growing only minimally quieter as the Recognizer flew past them. It was an announcement. City wide, from the sounds of things. Finally able to gather his feet beneath him, Beck took the stairs to the lobby two at a time. Tron was close at his side, while Ruby watched through gaps in the window’s cover. The garage crew huddled together, pressed shoulder to shoulder or even cheek to cheek behind him, trying to stay together as if they could remember the last time so many recognizers had been so close to them. Another buzzed past the window, serving as a loudspeaker to carry Tesler’s every word through the entire city.

_“Ever since our arrival in this great city, you have been nothing but accommodating. You’ve opened your city, your businesses, your homes! And, in return, we’ve done our best to protect you.”_ Several programs muttered angrily at that, clearly remembering the fight out of the Plaza if not other such incidents, times they’d been threatened with the games. Times Beck had stepped in, because he’d always stepped in when it was the crew at risk. Shoving the thought aside, Beck continued to listen, ear turned to the street.

_“I think of all of you as my own. Which is why it pains me to have to make this announcement.”_ He took an audible breath, the sound loud as the rumbling thunder still overhead. _“We’ve discovered the identity of the Renegade, and he is one of you. His name is Beck.”_ Tesler revealed with all the fanfare of a Grid-read announcement. Beck went stiff. He could feel Tron’s hand on his shoulder, distant as if he was watching his mentor try to anchor someone else, while his systems poured power to his audio input. This couldn’t be happening. _“And like a virus, he’s spread across your city. He’s spread his sedition through dozens of programs, cost you friends, co-workers, bundlemates.”_ Tesler paused for a moment, then continued, _“The crew of Able’s Garage, his own workplace? Gone. Destroyed. All because they associated with him. They treated him as one of their own, and what did he do? He repaid their friendship with deresolution! This cannot be allowed to stand!”_ Tesler yelled, broadcast voice nearly rattling the city. Mechanics gasped, shrinking back. 

But Tesler wasn’t done. _“As of this moment, Argon is under strict quarantine. All trains in and out of the city have been halted. The roads have all been closed. The port has ceased accepting new ships. Make no mistake, we will find this rogue and bring him to justice. However, I’m willing to make a compromise. Any programs with valid intel on Beck, his whereabouts, or any conspirators he may be working with, will be allowed to leave the city. I trust you’ll do your civic duty and report this traitor as soon as possible, so everything can be returned to normal.”_ And if smirks were audible, Tesler’s would be the loudest in the room. _“Remember, Argon. We’re here for you.”_

With the roar of a hundred engines, the Recognizers began to move again. One by one, the lights returned, but Beck didn’t see it. He stared at the ground near his feet, core lurching and processor whirling so fast he could hear nothing but its strain and struggle. Tron tightened his grip, trying to pull Beck back from his thoughts, whirling faster and faster until the only line that made sense was one. In one single move, Tesler had shattered any chance of remaining in Argon. They would have to leave now, or risk everything they had built. And even then, what were the odds that this broadcast wouldn’t reach other cities? Gallium was close enough that a program that knew what they were doing could make it out, make it across the Outlands and spread the news that it wasn’t Tron. It wouldn’t undo everything, couldn’t undo everything. Beck had garnered a good deal of good will even without using his own name and designation. There would be allies. 

But there would also be enemies, and many of them. They needed to get out of the city before— 

“It was you.” Mara’s voice broke in behind them. With a gasp, Beck turned around. Mara stood at the head of the pack of mechanics, bright hair a sharp contrast to the dark suits and heads he thought he’d always know. Zed was watching through the fingers of one hand that he’d pressed to his face, dark eyes unreadable. Everyone stared as Mara stepped forward, Tron tensing behind him as if Mara was a threat. 

But she wasn’t. This was Mara, one of Beck’s closest friends. She’d never hurt him. 

Right?

Suddenly he wasn’t sure. 

"It was you." She repeated, once she was in arms reach. She reached forward, placing her fingertips on the center of his chest. For a moment, no one moved. Then she looked up at him, cyan eyes dark as storm clouds. "This whole time. It was you." 

Beck didn’t say a word. What could he say to that? He could try to deny it, try to spin things differently, but he knew Mara too well to even think that would work. She was too smart, too clever, and he wasn’t that good a liar. Why would Tesler say a thing like that about a no-name mechanic from a backwater edge town if it wasn’t true? Core lurching, he reached up to put his hand on her wrist. 

"....yeah." Beck sighed, voice whisper quiet. "It was." 

She frowned, brow furrowing over her eyes. She searched his face for something, eyes roving over the burns on his cheeks, hand light on his chest. Eventually, she shook her head. "Why didn't you say anything?" Mara asked in a voice as equally as quiet as his own, the world seeming to shrink to just the two of them. “We could have helped you.” She looked down, at the broad patch spread over his chest. “…I could have helped you.” 

She would have, he knew. She’d been ready, even after what happened to Rasket and Moog. Beck didn’t harbor any thoughts that his telling her to go home as the Renegade had actually made her stop, not knowing Mara the way he did, but at the same time… 

"I didn't want you involved. It...it was too risky." They’d both seen what Pavel had been willing to do to Rasket and Moog. The thought that that could have been her still put snow down his spine. He shook his head, forcing himself to look her in the eye. “And after Able, I knew I’d made the right call.” 

She snapped her head up, eyes wide. He forced himself to meet her gaze, to not look away. That wasn’t entirely true. He still wasn’t sure if keeping her out when they’d had so few allies at the time had been a good idea, but after Able had derezzed…he held himself straight and tall, shaking his head as she opened her mouth. 

“Hey!” Dash suddenly shouted, breaking the moment. They both looked at him as Zed groaned, burying his face in both hands. “Care to fill the rest of us in here?” Over sixty pairs of eyes looked at Dash then, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What? I can’t be the only one with questions, can I?” 

A dozen mechanics hissed at him to be quiet. For a long moment, Mara looked at them, looking over the crowd as Zed and Ray tried to get them back under control as they began to mutter and stare, pointing at Beck and sharing looks with one another. Then she looked back at Beck, before she seemed to force herself to take a deep breath, deeper than was needed. She held it, then sighed out through her nose. 

“Maybe. And I can see your point,” She said at first, but then she leveled a firm look at him. “But that wasn’t your call to make,” He hand curled into a fist on Beck’s chest before she pulled it back, bringing it to rest against her hip. “That was my call. Not yours.” She shook her head as he opened his mouth, meeting his eyes. “You don’t get to decide for any of us, Beck. Not about this.” 

“Mara—”

“I hate to interrupt,” Ruby broke in, stepping forward with easy grace. Everyone turned to look at her as she said, “but we have a bigger problem now. Tesler’s announcement means that they’ll be looking in every building from here to the Outlands. We can’t stay here. Not without a fight.”

“Then we fight back,” Mara said, tightening her fists, “We fight back and we show them that we’re not going to give up just because some trash-code decided his exhaust fan needed some work. We’re staying right here and—” 

“No,” Beck broke in with a shake of his head. Forcing himself to stand up straight, he looked across the crowd of his former fellows. He didn’t want this for any of them, but….he took a breath. If they stayed, they would fight. They were untrained, and so they would be derezzed or worse. That left only one option. “No. None of you are staying.” He looked at Tron, then at Ruby. 

“We’re leaving Argon. All of us.”

——

_"Oh, Clu!" Flynn waves, a gesture of calling. "Come here a second--got something I wanna show you."_

_Clu does as his creator beckons, only to stop as he stares at two programs looking out over the Sea nearby. They are young, betas that ping his source code, recognize him as friendly, and then turn away. Flynn has programmed them to…ignore him? He frowns._

_“Flynn,” He says, “And they are..."_

_“Some of that help you wanted!” Flynn grins, teeth gleaming in the light of the Capitol behind them. "New code. I had to borrow some bits from Tron, but..." he looks at the two betas standing shoulder to shoulder, grin becoming soft, "They'll do great."_

_Clu is not convinced. He frowns._

_"What are their designations?"_

_“Cyrus—” He points to one, a line of hair down a mostly shaved head, blue-white lines shared with his bundlemade marking them as User-loyal, the same as Tron. Borrowed bits indeed. “And Beck.” He points to the other, dark spikes blowing in the sea wind._

_“Beck.” As in beckon, to call? What an odd name. He says as much, and Flynn’s grin goes wider._

_“What? No, no! At your beck and call, man!” Flynn laughs. Clu frowns. Flynn waves a hand, “User humor. Don’t worry—When these two get going? It’ll be just like having another Tron around._

_That is the last thing he wants._  

“This whole time…he was right under Tesler’s nose.”

“Dyson, I think the more appropriate phrase is right over Tesler’s head.” Clu said with a laugh, pulling himself from the old memory. Both programs were looking up from the loading dock of the command ship, eyes on the Spire in the distance. It cut an intimidating picture when backlit by lightning, rough Outlands stone unassuming but looming just the same. Most programs would have thought it was a simple rock formation, intimidating but nothing more than just that. Rock.

Most programs weren’t Cyrus, with his intimate knowledge of Tron and his plans. Of course, that had been before Cyrus had somehow gone off his directive. Clu had thought his little ace in the hole lost along with most of the data he’d sent in the early days. With his last transmission—based out of Argon—in hand, Clu had sent his honor guard to seek out any trace of Cyrus and bring him back, and what a boon that had turned out to be. Cyrus had been able to update his final transmission, bring them a giant leap closer to Tron by finding his base. Did Clu think Tron had returned there? Not really. Tron was smart, experienced. Leaving Argon was the smart idea with all of the soldiers stomping around, after all. He really didn’t think his old friend would do something as dumb as going back to something so obvious.

No, he’d probably already left Argon with Beck in tow. He’d have to be sure, spread his soldiers through Argon even after he returned to the capital, but everything in him told him Tron was long gone. Of course, the easiest way to prove that would be to search, which was where Cyrus came in. As former security, Cyrus would have the skillset needed to track any program within Argon City limits. As someone who’d worked with Tron, he knew what to expect. Dyson would have been the better option, but Clu needed Dyson and sending him after Tron was asking for trouble. No, in this case, Cyrus was really the best option.

Even if Cyrus was a few bits short of stable these millis. Clu turned, watching as Cyrus pawed through a crate of supplies, clipping several grenades to his hips. When he picked up a second baton, Clu inclined his head.

“I trust your gear is up to par?” He asked casually. Cyrus snorted.

“I’ll have to make some adjustments,” He grumbled, ignoring Dyson turning to look at him, “but it’ll be enough to take Tron out.”

And there was the root of their problem. Cyrus had the tracking abilities of all Security programs and the knowledge of Tron’s behavior, but he was a loose cannon with that grudge. Clu sighed.

“Cyrus, we’ve been over this. I need Tron alive.” The rogue program snarled at him. Clu didn’t even blink. “Which means your revenge is going to have to wait.”

“Tron needs to suffer.” Cyrus bit out, beginning to pace back and forth. Dyson rolled his shoulders back, the casual gesture limbering up his joints. Clu held himself back from rolling his eyes; suffer, pay, so on and so forth. Whatever had made Cyrus go rogue from Clu’s adjustments in the first place hadn’t helped his temper. Add that to whatever Tron and Beck had done to him, and Cyrus had never exactly gotten that little string out of his code, unfortunately. It was a nasty habit to put up with. But it was useful…even when it nearly turned into total destruction.

“I agree.” Clu didn’t entirely lie, “But the best way to make him pay is to turn him into something he hates.” He gestured to the ruins of Tesler’s ship just across the plateau, still a hive of red-lined activity as soldiers put out the small fires that remained. “Which is why I need him intact. I can’t repurpose cubes.”

Cyrus glared at him, then turned away with a huff. “And Beck?” he asked, more snarl than speech, “Do you want him intact?”

For a moment, Clu contemplated. The two were connected in ways that he’d just begun to explain to Cyrus, in ways that he could _use_ , and yet…leave Beck alive to be bait, maybe repurpose him and use him against Tron and whatever Uprising could form, or destroy him and turn him into a martyr for Tron’s cause. Neither was the best outcome, but could he trust Cyrus to bring Beck in in one piece? Maybe, maybe not. He shrugged one shoulder.

“I’d prefer him that way, but it’s no loss if he’s not. Do what you will.”

He had to admit that Cyrus’ smirk was a little disconcerting. All teeth and glowing lines in the dim light of the command ship, Cyrus cracked his primary baton. With the rev of an engine, the rogue program took off like a shot out right towards Argon. A moment later, two of Clu’s honor guard stepped up beside him.

“I want you two keeping an eye on him.” He said quietly, watching the red-tinged white line disappear into Argon. “Make sure he doesn’t derezz Beck.”

To their credit, his honor guard never asked questions. He was sure they wanted to, but they saluted him instead and took running leaps off the ramp, golden-lined lightjets a flare across Argon’s blue airspace. He knew they’d do a good job.

Now, if only he could say the same for Dyson. His most trusted General had gone unusually quiet, dark eyes on Cyrus’ trail.

“Bit for your thoughts, Dyson?” He asked casually.

Dyson didn’t so much as twitch. “Sir. Tron’s going to destroy him.”

“And what,” He said, looking at Dyson, “Makes you think that isn’t the plan?” Clu smirked. “Cyrus takes out Beck, Tron takes out Cyrus, and then we simply swoop in, pick up Tron, and everything goes back to the way it should have.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of Argon’s peaceful air. It wouldn’t be long now. Whatever hope Flynn had left was about to die like a squashed gridbug.

“Just like that, sir?” And yet, Dyson still didn’t seem convinced. Ah, well. A problem for another time. Overhead, another three golden dual seater lightjet and a pair of recognizers flew out into the Outlands, towards the Spire.

“Just like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Ray is not an OC. She's the program that Beck rescues in the beginning of Grounded, and we see again at the end of Terminal. She's given no name or named voice in the credits (probably under additional voices) but I grabbed her and ran with her. Disney you suck sometimes.


	6. 00110110

"We’re leaving Argon. All of us.”

That set everyone off as fully as if Beck had kicked a Gridbug nest. Programs began to speak, talking and yelling over one another with volume increasing by the second. Mara whirled around to face her crew, raising her hands and her voice as she tried to get them to settle, tried to get them to listen. Zed stepped in to help her, shouting at the top of his vocals, but it only made things worse. Tron watched with a frown as Beck’s brow furrowed, before he raised one hand to his mouth. He whistled sharply, the sound piercing in the small space. Programs covered their ears, startled into staring at him, and the yelling came to a screeching halt. Taking a deep breath, Beck shook his head.

“None of you are trained,” Beck said, “And we don’t have the time to train you. Not properly.” He looked over his shoulder at Tron, who simply inclined his head and stayed where he was. Beck wasn’t wrong in the slightest. The young program turned back to his fellows. “Which means you all need to get out before Clu or Tesler’s forces catch up and find us here.”

“How hard could the training be?” A male-designate asked. Tron allowed himself to smirk behind his helmet while Beck pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. That small gesture said enough that Mara and Zed both leaned back, and the initial speaker began to look wary. Beck lowered his hand.

“Harder than you think. And I’ve been in training since Clu’s statue blew up, but this—” He gestured down his front, at the wounds the patches held shut but didn’t hide, “—Still happened. That’s with all that time behind me.” He turned to Tron. “How long do you think we have before we’re found if we stay here?”

“At best?” Tron extended a hand, “A full milli, Provided they don’t start in this district and don’t have the numbers for an optimized search. If they do or they start here…” He shook his head, lowering his hand to grip his upper arms. “Less than a quarter. That’s not even enough time to teach you all how to run.”

“We can all run,” A female-designate with black rimming her eyes grumbled at him, arms crossed over her chest.

“Not the way you need to, Ray,” Beck replied, holding the cooling blanket tight across his frame. Something distant flashed across his eyes, but it quickly disappeared as Ruby stepped forward with a frown.

"That still leaves the question of how." Ruby said, arms crossed over her chest. "Argon doesn't have a Sailor dock, does it?"

Tron shook his head. "No. Flynn was planning to build more, but..." He trailed off with a shrug. Beck looked at him again, the oddest look in his eyes, and not for the first time Tron was glad for his visor. Mara frowned.

"There's the train station, but..."

"That's probably already locked down," Beck said, looking at Mara and then over the crowd of mechanics. "Same as the highway, and the tunnels are probably full of water by now." He raked a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure what else that leaves us with."

"What about the port?" Zed said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. He gulped. "I mean, Argon ships a lot of bike parts and tools to other cities. And they're really important, so they wouldn’t stop those right away, right?” He looked from Ruby to Beck to Mara, then back to Beck with a sheepish grimace on his face as no one spoke up. “....We could probably get out in the containers?"

"As cargo!" Beck and Mara exclaimed in unison. Beck turned to their friend with wide eyes. "Zed, you're a genius!"

Zed grinned. Beside Tron, Ruby tilted her head. 

"That still leaves us with finding a way to get almost sixty programs all the way across town. The Harbor has likely been closed by now.”

“Not for automatic shipments,” Mara shook her head, “Those need to stay on schedule, and only the big groups would know about them.” She raised a hand to her forehead, fingers picking at the edge of the rough patch. “But without the manifest from the Garage, I don’t know which one I could get us into.”

“Alpha-81652-F,” A male designate piped up suddenly from the middle of the crowd. Everyone turned to look at him, and he shrunk in on himself for a moment before continuing, “I-it’ll be heading to Ferrum in an eighth of a milli.”

Tron hissed quietly to himself, and Beck’s eyes went wide. That wasn’t much time…Mara frowned. 

“Link,” She said, “how do you know all that?”

Link shrugged. “Able reassigned me to shipping and receiving the last time he…” His gaze dropped to the ground. “…The last time I was on shift with him. You didn’t take me off of it, and—” He looked up at Mara, “It’s full of bike parts and tools. They won’t check it.”

“How sure of that are you,” Another male-designate asked, unnerved. Link turned to answer, but Beck shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter—that’s the best plan I heard all milli. Now we just need to get you there.”

“Yeah,” Zed sighed, “With a whole army between us and the harbor.” He scoffed. “Some run this’ll be.”

Beck frowned. He turned, looking at the window. His eyes narrowed, and he turned to Tron.

“…How many soldiers would be reassigned to chase if they caught sight of Tron?”

Tron frowned. “At least a couple hundred of them. Why—” He didn’t need to finish. As Ruby seemed to realize what Beck was planning, drawing in a hissed breath, Tron shook his head. “No.”

“But—”

“No.” He stepped forward. “You can barely stand, forget fight. If you go out there, you’re not coming back.” His voice wavered, just for a nano. Beck’s eyes widened, before he looked away. Tron took a steadying breath, forcing himself to swallow the words he wanted to say once more. This wasn’t the time or the place for them. 

“Under normal circumstances,” He said instead, “It would be a good plan.” Too good. It would be one of his plans. Somehow the thought nearly froze his core. “But with the number of guards running out there, distraction won’t work, even if it was you or me out there. They’d just reassign another squad to keep up the search. It would be pointless.”

Mara spread her hands. “We have to do something, right?” When he turned on her, she swallowed hard. “I don’t like the idea any more than you do, obviously, but we can’t stay here. We’re all derezzed if we do.”

“Worse,” Beck and Tron replied in unison, looking at one another before Tron shook his head. Users, he didn’t like this idea. But she was right: something needed to be done. Just keeping Beck and himself out of Clu’s grasp would take a User given miracle. Keeping an additional fifty-eight programs from capture or deresolution? Not with the way things were. He looked up as Ruby turned to him.

“…What about two Trons?” She said quietly. When Beck tilted his head, she raised a brow and smiled. “If you both go out there, they won’t know where to go. We’ll be able to move faster, and the confusion may keep them off of you.”

“A pincer attack.” Tron frowned to himself. It was a valid tactic, but it still involved Beck going out there in his wounded state. He gripped his arms tightly as Ruby nodded, then looked out over the crew. Nearly sixty strong and entirely untrained, they were more of a liability than an asset, both to the Revolution and to Beck. He looked at his young friend, meeting oddly steady eyes, and forced himself to take a deep breath. There was no other option, then. “Alright,” He told Ruby, pinning her with a look through his visor, “but I want you all gone the nano we leave. We can buy you a few micros, but not much more.” He turned away, “Beck. With me.”

Beck huffed out what sounded like a laugh, but Tron didn’t turn around. The crowd parted around him, mechanics pressing shoulder to shoulder to allow both Beck and Tron passage through to the doorway. As it opened, Tron heard a male-designate pipe up behind them.

“Wait a nano,” He said, voice high with sudden realization, “If Beck’s the Renegade, then who’s that with him?”

The door whooshed shut behind Beck, cutting off his amused laugh as Tron smiled to himself, just a little. Then his smile dropped and he turned to Beck, already reaching for the baton that Tron had left for him in their borrowed apartment.

“Beck,” He said firmly in a quiet voice, “You’re still hurt.” Beck looked up, one brow quirked upwards as if to say _tell me something I don’t know._ Tron continued anyway, “You can’t fight like you’re used to. If they catch you again,” Tron’s voice dropped, “You know they’re not just going to let you walk away a second time.”

Beck looked down at the road. “I know.” He rubbed his wrists, the raw code shimmering into view. His patches caught in the early-cycle light as he looked back up at Tron, that same steadiness to his gaze as before. “But this is the only option we have. You can’t do this alone.” He frowned, then reached back for his disk. Tron watched as the young program flipped it over, white on black blurring into gray as the smooth motion revealed a part of Tron’s old disk. He said it belonged to Beck now, that the name of Tron was a part of Beck’s legacy as much as it was of Tron himself, but oh…oh, how he wanted to rip it away now, to shove Beck back with his fellows and do this alone.

To protect him, Tron realized. Only, Beck didn’t need protecting. Not like that. Not anymore. Tron watched with his frown hidden behind his visor as the too familiar pattern he’d spent so many cycles with rezzed across Beck’s frame. The patches faded from obvious sight, but still gleamed if they caught the light at the right angle. Up close, the difference would be obvious, but by then it wouldn’t be important.

If they got that close, Beck was good as derezzed. Tron shook his head.

“Stay out of range,” He said finally, watching as Beck flipped his baton once more. “I may not be there to back you up this time.”

Helmet still folded into the suit, Beck just smiled. He reached up, putting a hand to Tron’s shoulder and transmitting [ _calm_ ] down his circuits.

“Don’t worry. Trained by the best, remember?” Beck’s smile turned into an almost grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes as he stepped back, tapping the emblem on his chest. “Maybe it’ll be me rescuing you this time.”

And then he was gone, rezzing his bike with a dull thud and racing off into the streets of Argon. Tron sighed quietly to himself.

“…Wouldn’t that be something.”

He took a steadying breath. Then, turning on his heel, he cracked his baton. The single-seater lightjet rezzed in beneath him, and he shot off into the skies above.

—

If there was one thing Mara had to give Beck and his friend credit for, it was that they knew how to make a show. Argon was in utter chaos. Mara turned to look over her shoulder, watching as a fuel tower burst into bright blue energy flames as a blue lined lightjet flew past it, a dozen red-lines in hot pursuit. Behind her, Dash and Copper were working together with Zed to attach a pull-cord to the inside of the cargo container’s door so they could pull it shut from the inside.

It would be a tight squeeze for fifty-eight mechanics. Container Alpha-81652-F was large, but it had been packed full. Bartik and Hopper were hard at work inside with some of the other mechanics, shifting crates and trays around so there would be room for everyone to at least sit down, but they’d be squeezed in tighter than Sentries in a Recognizer. They’d have to go into a makeshift sleep mode for the journey, too.

Mara wasn’t looking forward to that. Another loud boom drew her attention away, the distant rumble of tank-fire on ground level making everyone look back towards the city. Beside her, Ray snorted softly.

“He really does know how to get everyone’s attention,” She said with a shake of her head. Mara smiled tiredly.

“Always has.” She turned her head up, watching as the blue-lined lightjet buzzed over the source of the tank-fire, then quickly banked away towards the hills as it gained pursuit once again. She forced herself to look away as footsteps clicked across the harbor’s stone flooring, watching as Zed trotted to the crane that would lift the container onto the waiting ship, Ruby’s white suit gleaming as lightning struck the sea behind her and the harbor master. Mara frowned a bit, looking back to the city. Her core lurched. She still didn’t like the idea of leaving Beck behind with only that tall dark and stoic program for back-up. 

But what choice did she have? She had to stay with the crew. Behind her, the crane started up. She heard Dash yell “Don’t put this thing in the Sea, Zed!” and turned to Ray. 

“We should get on-board.” She said quietly, the clank of the container down onto the cargo ship covering the next explosion from within Argon that sent blue flames to the sky. If they didn’t leave now, she knew, they’d never leave. With a nod from Ray, the two turned away and headed towards the cargo ship, the rest of the crew loading up as Ruby returned from speaking with the Harbormaster.

“When you get to Ferrum,” Ruby said to Mara, “Go to the Control Circuit club and ask for Reia. Tell her I sent you.” Ruby smiled a little bit. “She’ll make sure you get to where you need to go.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Mara blinked. Ruby shook her head.

“I have to stay and make sure they don’t get derezzed,” She gestured out towards Argon, towards where Beck and his friend were still causing destruction and chaos. “You’ll be alright.” She reached out, putting a hand on Mara’s shoulder. “Keep your eyes forward, Mara. Don’t look back.”

Easier said than done. Mara tried to smile, even as Zed took her hand and they began to walk towards the container.

Another blast rattled the skies. Mara stopped in her tracks. Zed halted beside her.

“Mara?” He asked softly, but she could only shake her head. She looked at her crew, waiting inside the cargo container, and then looked over her shoulder at Argon. At the lightjet blasting past another dozen red-lines in the sky, toppling them with its wake turbulence.

"What's going to happen to them?" She asked, watching as a Recognizer joined the chase. "To Beck and..."

Tron. She realized it now. Beck was the Renegade, but he'd learned from someone. That someone had to have been Tron.

Tron really was alive. She turned to Ruby.

"How will they get out? How will you get them out?"

Ruby sighed quietly. "Truthfully? I don't know. They know the city better than Tesler or Clu ever could, but..." She paused, watching another Recognizer fly in a different direction. "Getting out of this will take a User given miracle. We might not be able to.”

"And you're okay with that?" Zed blurted out, "With Beck and Tron just getting derezzed? Or worse?!"

"Of course not." Ruby frowned at him. "But I have to consider the bigger picture. This rebellion is worth nothing without numbers. They both made their choices, in this milli and every one before that.”

In order to defend the hapless garage crew. To try and retake the Grid all on their own. 

And what had she done in that time? Wrangled a crew of beta mechanics. Had a crush on the Renegade—and oh, what a mess that was!—and gotten in over her head.

Wished for his deresolution. 

Mara bit her lip, then shook her head. Murmuring an apology to her memory of Able, she strode forward. Ray was still on the ramp, and she jolted as Mara pulled her back.

“Ray—” She took a breath, “I need you to help Zed look after the others.”

“What?” Ray asked, eyes wide as Zed called out Mara’s name behind her. Mara continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I’m not coming with you. I need you to do this for me, alright?” She met Ray’s gaze. “Stay out of trouble, and keep everyone together.” She put both hands on Ray’s shoulders, and tried for another smile. “I know you can do it.”

“Mara…” Ray whispered, stunned. A spark of determination came into her eyes as she nodded, then quickly pulled her friend into an embrace. “Be careful.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mara laughed quietly, then stepped back. “…See you.”

Ray waved. Mara turned on her heel, then stopped in front of Zed.

“Zed—”

“Save it.” He said firmly, then smiled at her. “’Course I’m coming with you.” He looked over her shoulder, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Bartik! Try not to get derezzed, okay!”

“Y-yeah!” Bartik shouted back, the stark blue-on-dark of a patch over his eye the only thing visible of him as Mara turned around. “You guys too!”

Mara smiled a bit, then palmed up her baton as she walked off the ramp and back towards the harbor entrance. Ruby, standing nearby with her arms crossed over her chest, tilted her head.

“Just what do you two think you can do?”

Mara frowned. “I don’t know,” She said firmly, “But I won’t leave without Beck.” She looked at Ruby, cracking her baton in both hands. “So I guess I’ll improvise.”

Her bike rezzed in a flare of blue-white code and a dull thud. Zed was barely a pace behind her, and the two of them raced back to the city.

She could only hope they made it in time to help.

—

“We really,” Beck ducked, “have got to,” He scrambled up the wall, onto the overhang of a light pole, “got to stop meeting like this!” He huffed out, glaring down at General Tesler through his shaded visor. The General glared right back up at him, hands glowing white-hot.

Beck had wanted to be a distraction, but this…this was a little much!

“Did you really think you could escape from us?” Tesler spat from below, face as dark as a stormcloud. Slowly, glancing towards the half dozen red-lined soldiers standing at Tesler’s back, Beck reached back for his disk.

“Did a few times already.” He said as he palmed his disk, kicking it on. It revved beneath his palm, vibrating faintly. Tesler just sneered.

“Not this time.”

Quick as a flash, he lashed out with both hands, a metallic clang echoing through the street as he grabbed onto the light pole and began to tug. Beck cried out, instinctively grabbing on and hanging on for his disk as he had a single nano to process the situation. Stay on the pole and get sent down to the street, or jump for it and make a run for the rooftops. 

No choice.

“We’ll see about that!”

He shifted his weight, and as the light pole finally broke, he leapt for the roof. Rain slick metal slipped beneath his fingers as Tesler bellowed in frustration, and that frustration turned to a rage filled shout as Beck made it over the edge of the roof.

“After him!” Tesler shouted, throwing the broken half of the light pole far away. It landed with a clang, but the sound couldn’t hide the firing of Tesler’s arms once more. The General, now in hot pursuit, came after Beck with all the fury of a storm.

“You!” He shouted, all trace of control gone from his face, “Have been a thorn in my side for far too long!” He didn’t look away as a second fuel tower exploded in the distance, Tron’s handiwork setting bits and pieces of Argon alight. Beck spared a thought for how much of his city would even be left after this milli, before he inclined his head.

“And what makes you think that you can get rid of me so easily?” He asked, keeping his eyes on Tesler’s stance. The General glared at him, hands becoming too painfully bright to look at. His knees bent. Beck shifted his weight to his heels. Tesler’s glare slipped into a sneer.

“Who said anything about easy?”

With more speed than should have been possible for such a large frame, Tesler rocketed forward. Beck cried out as the General slammed into him, knocking them both from the roof and into the alleyway below. They hit the ground hard, a breathless cry forcing its way out of Beck’s throat as Tesler picked him up by the throat and threw him, right into the side of a dumpster. His baton shattered as he landed on it, driving shrapnel into the side of his leg, slicing through the mobility circuit there, tiny drops of bright blue energy plopping into the alley. He stumbled upright, disk in hand, and swallowed hard. Tesler had not been kidding: this wasn’t going to be easy. 

Beck looked up, stepping back as Tesler’s footsteps echoed through the alley.

“Oh,” He almost seemed to purr, “I’m going to enjoy this pulling you apart.”

Beck’s core lurched. Tesler strode forward almost casually, that sneer still on his face. It was probably his default expression by now, Beck thought to himself, and it wasn’t helped by a horrid glimmer in his eye as his tremendous gun rezzed around his hand. Beck’s eyes widened, and he threw himself to the ground as the gun went off with a horrifically loud blast to take out the dumpster and the wall behind it, along with a chunk of the interior wall of that building. If that shot had hit, even a glancing blow—! Grid, he had to get out of here!

Beck didn’t let himself hesitate. Pushing off his good leg he leapt back to his feet, slipping in a puddle and skidding on the turn away from the main road. Tesler yelled behind him, a bark of an order for all programs to fall back to the search for Tron, that Beck was his to deal with, and a second blast rocketed down the alleyway. Beck rolled, softly crying out at the pain in his leg. He didn’t dare look down at the injury, knowing that the limb was still attached but probably compromised with the way his pace slowed and he had to force each step. Tesler’s footsteps behind him were like thunderclaps, the blast of his gun lightning that struck too close for comfort. Stumbling around a corner, Beck’s core hitched and stuttered as he realized, truly, that there was no way he’d make it out of this.

Not this time.

He was alone, injured, and under relentless pursuit. Tron was too far away. He had no back up. 

He was going to derezz here, at Tesler’s bullying hands. 

No. No! He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let some glitch like Tesler be the end of him! Not here, not now! 

Gritting his teeth, Beck pushed himself forward down the alleyway, struggling on as Tesler’s slow but steady pursuit echoed through the roads and turns at his back. Grid, this was some sick game to him, wasn’t it? It had to be. Tesler knew he had Beck right where he wanted him and was going to play with him before finishing him off. It had to be some sick form of retribution. Beck’s core lurched at the thought, and with another soft sound of pain he forced himself to run. Behind him, Tesler’s pace picked up. Another blast scored the building behind Beck; that was four. Provided Tesler hadn’t gotten another upgrade, he only had two left. 

It wasn’t a comforting thought. Neither was the sight of the main road dead ahead as he skidded around another corner, Argon’s main looping highway stretched out ahead of him. Somehow, in all the twists and turns and rooftop leaping before Tesler had caught up, he’d found his way to the residential off-ramps. If he jumped off here, he’d be in the heart of the city, where dozens of hundreds of red-lined soldiers marched and rumbled along the roads and buildings. If he kept going, he’d be an easy target with no place to hide and a bum leg, not to mention no bike on the five kilometer stretch of empty highway. It was no choice at all, but with Tesler right behind him he had to make one. 

With a growl, Beck kept moving forward onto the highway, stumbling forward as Tesler’s fifth blast split the air. Overhead, the whir of chopper blades filled the air. A chopper flew overhead, the searchlight throwing Beck in stark contrast to the dark Grid road beneath his feet. His steps lurched, another frame integrity warning skipping across his visuals as he hobbled along, no longer able to run. Tesler’s laugh split the space behind him as his final blast went wide in what Beck could tell was a purposeful shot, on that kept him from running forward as the road collapsed under the energy blast, but the sound of collapsing code couldn’t cover the sound of bikes approaching from the on-ramp, or the roar of lightjets and recognizers in the distance. Beck stopped, stepping back away from Tesler as the General stalked towards him, ignoring that Beck’s back was now to open air. The chopper buzzed overhead, searchlight turning the highway white. Beck stepped back, heel almost over the edge. Nowhere to go, help nowhere in sight, and Tesler closing in. A recognizer landed behind the General, offloading a dozen more soldiers. Bikes hummed all around, soldiers waiting to run him down if he tried to flee. He looked over his shoulder; he’d survived higher falls before, but with his leg like this…Grid, what choice was there? He looked back at Tesler, shifting his weight. This was closing in on the worst situation he’d ever been in. When had Tesler gotten so desperate? Why had he gotten so desperate? What had Clu done?

Or had he just been given enough code to overload his own systems? Beck swallowed hard, watching the General with a wary expression. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment,” Tesler said, stalking closer. The electric hum of his hands caught in Beck’s audio, flares of bright light making shadows out of everything. Beck tightened his grip on his disk. “How long I’ve been waiting to take you down.”

“You’re going to have to wait a while longer. I’ve got things to do.” Beck retorted, disk flaring overload bright in his hand. Tesler’s sneer deepened.

“Do you?” He snorted, stopping just out of disk range. Beck hunched over, holding most of his weight on his uninjured leg. One second. He just needed a single moment when Tesler could do nothing and— “I doubt that.”

Quick as a flash, Tesler threw out both of his hands like the weapons they were. Beck tried to sidestep, knowing this was his chance, but Tesler was faster. White hot code latched around his torso, holding him in place even as Beck cried out at the pain, the sound of sizzling code filling his audio receivers. Tesler stalked towards him, sneer beginning to become a smirk as Beck struggled weakly. 

“Look around you, Mechanic! You can’t save this city! You can’t even save yourself!” Tesler roared, tightening his grip. Something cracked in Beck’s chest, causing him to gasp and forcing him to chase away a frame integrity warning, shutting off his warning system when it returned a second later. He was doomed, he knew it, he didn’t need to be told again and again! Tesler retracted his arms a bit, but now held Beck over the edge of the highway, leaving him with no way to kick out. At least he didn’t have weight on his bad leg anymore. Beck gasped, chest cracking again. “All you’re going to be is cubes!” Tesler leaned in, the sneer turning his voice oily. Beck shuddered, only half because of the pain. “And that’s if Clu’s feeling merciful. I won’t be nearly as lenient.”

Gasping for air, Beck forced himself to look Tesler in the eye. Slowly, painfully, he raised his disk. 

“Funny.” Beck choked out. Tesler’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what you said last time I did this.”

With all the strength he had left in him, Beck struck down. Tesler’s eyes went wide as, for the third time, he found himself without hands. Beck dropped down to the road below, one level, two, and impacted hard on the road with a breathless cry. Tesler’s still hot hands fell to the ground beside him as he stumbled back to his feet and lurched ahead, into the shadows of the highway. Tesler’s voice was a distant roar overhead, the rattling rumble of approaching vehicles covering most of it up. His visuals drenched in warnings, Beck staggered into the shadow of a nearby building, barely holding himself upright with one hand. They’d be searching the area for him. He had to get out, get back to Tron. Leave Argon before they could find them. But with half the city between him and the others, it would be a long trek and—

He looked up as an arm wrapped around his waist, a second following around his chest without warning. He had no time to react.

With a short, breathless cry, Beck was pulled into the darkness.

—


	7. 00110111

Beck’s cry echoed down the alleyway, a sharp sound that seemed to rattle the very space around them despite the breathlessness in his voice. His disk fell from his grip and into hers, almost painfully hot as the echo died out. She swore it was still rattling.

Or maybe it just rattled Paige’s core. She grimaced, pulling with every bit of strength she had to get him out of the light, deeper into the shadows between the buildings. He struggled, bucking and trying to throw her, but she was having none of it. With a cry of her own she turned him, slamming him into the wall nearby and grabbing both wrists to hold them together, one arm at his neck.

“Be quiet,” Paige hissed, holding him in the shadows as a Lightjet zoomed past overhead, “I can’t help you if Tesler hears you and comes running!”

“Help me—” Beck choked, turning his head as he struggled for air. Carefully, she lightened the pressure on his neck so he could get enough to not overheat but not so much that he could get free and fight her.

Not that he’d have stood much of a chance, wounded as he was. She swallowed hard at the sight of all the patches across his frame, the largest crossing where the emblem had once been on his chest. It was, she realized, almost as if someone had tried to carve the mark of Tron right off of Beck without caring how much it would hurt. The edges still looked raw. Slowly, she eased more weight off of him. The green-red burns beneath both eyes shifted as he frowned at her.

“What do you mean, help me?” Beck finally got the energy to say, forehead leaning against the alley wall even as he looked at her with bright, wide eyes. “You left me back there—”

“I didn’t have a choice!” She leaned in, frame pressed against his, “Or did you want me to get caught, too? Tesler would have had my disk if Clu or Dyson didn’t beat him to it!” She narrowed her eyes. “And then where would you be? Derezzed or worse.” She sighed explosively. “Look, I’m sorry. But right now, we have to move.”

“That kind of implies—” He shifted his weight off his injured leg, “That you have to let me up. Though if you want to stay like this…” He almost grinned, a tight little smile full of pain and playfulness in equal measure. “I wouldn’t mind too much.”

Paige reared back, then sighed.

“Move, Program.”

It was easier to ignore his gasp this time as she pulled him away from the wall, marching him deep into the alleyway. He limped, hobbling along and carrying most of his weight on one leg. She couldn’t blame him; his other limb was badly injured, the raw code beginning to give way to voxels and fractal lines. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose the leg. Though that was probably the least of his problems right now. He looked back at her as they turned the corner, the alley under the highway sheltered and dimly lit.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked softly, all trace of amusement gone. Paige didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. She didn’t know herself. The loyal thing, the action that would save her disk, would be to take him to Tesler, to turn him in. The right thing to do, she was realizing slowly, was to let him go. Let him be free to at least try, because every time she tried to add up what she knew, Clu was the threat. And how was that right? It wasn’t. But she was a loyal soldier and she had to do her duty…even if she knew, in the end, she couldn’t. Not with him. She simply held her silence and marched him along, kicking aside a loose bit of code debris that lay on the alley floor. It rattled off the wall, rolling to a stop. Another piece of debris rolled beneath Beck’s foot and he stumbled, weight going on his bad leg. With an aborted cry he crumpled, the sudden movement pulling her down with him even as it wrenched his wrists from her grip. Beck turned mid-fall, landing port down with a groan as she collided chin first with his chest. His circuits flickered feebly beneath her as, for a moment, they lay still in the relative quiet. 

Then she sat back up on his hips, dragging her hands down her face. Grid, what a mess. She scrubbed at her hair, fingers catching. She couldn’t turn him and she couldn’t help him. What was she even _doing_?!

“…You’re not turning me in. Are you?” Beck whispered cautiously. Slowly, Paige lowered her hands. He was looking at her with tempered hope, fractal lines showing through the render of his dull white suit. She sighed heavily, lowering her hands.

“No.” The word caught in her throat. “I don’t—I’m not taking you in. Not this time.”

“Then why—”

She shook her head, looking at his disk for a long moment. It would be so _easy_ to turn it on, to get her own confirmation of events. She tightened her grip on the dim unit…then slowly set it down by his hand. “I needed to talk. There’s…there’s a lot of things that I’ve been doubting lately. Including you.”

He blinked at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” She sighed, brushing hair out of her eyes, “That I’m not sure what to believe anymore. Clu lied to us.” Her shoulders slumped. Why was she telling him all of this? She already knew the answer to that: Beck, soft-cored as he was, was probably the only one who knew what that meant. His eyes widened a bit as she continued, “And now…I’m not sure I should believe General Tesler, either.” She shook her head, hair slipping back into her vision. “He said—showed me a memory—that implicated you as the one who set me up. Made me look…guilty.” Put that brute up to manipulating her code. She shuddered, but as the true meaning of her words dawned on Beck his eyes went wide and he surged up.

“Paige, I would never—” His words cut off with a groan, circuits flickering again as his injuries flared. She grimaced a bit, the need to know the truth warring with her old medic code. Her lines flickered to a bright green, held for a second, then went occupation red again. She forced herself to look him in the eye instead of helping him back down.

“Show me.” She said instead, picking up his disk again as he leaned his weight on his elbows. “Show me the memories from then. Prove to me that you had _nothing_ to do with it.”

He looked at her for a long moment, sides stuttering as he tried to kick his systems back into some semblance of function, before his eyes shuttered closed.

“…Help me sit.”

She almost didn’t. If he sat up he’d be able to attack her but if he didn’t, then…she shook off the thought, reaching for his arms and pulling him up. He groaned softly, likely little more than a ball of pain and code at that moment in time, and she forced herself not to access his patching protocol. She had to be sure…his frame trembled faintly as he took up his disk, holding it between them as the memory started up, the glow of the hologram making his stark white suit glimmer even as it cast odd shadows across his face. She watched wordlessly as the memory of that triple played out, from their dive to the arch to his talking with Tron—Grid it really was Tron!--to their time together in the club to Pavel’s arrival. Never did his memory so much as _look_ at Purgos, let alone that old disk modifying program. She swallowed hard as the memory turned to their time in the cell, before going quiet as Beck shut it down.

“…Now do you believe me?” He asked softly. A lump in her throat, Paige nodded. She gave her processor a proverbial thump, taking a steadying breath.

“I believe you.”

There weren’t many other options, after all. If she was being honest with herself, she’d known all along. She just had to be sure…she took another breath, then let her shoulders slump. This didn’t change anything at all, really. Beck was still a wanted fugitive, and if she didn’t take him in, then she’d be deemed a traitor as well. And who would that help? But if she _did_ take him in, then…could she live with herself? Could she really do it? Her core lurched, a sickening drop of the ground beneath her knees sending her reeling internally. The more she thought about it, the more obvious it became. She couldn’t turn Beck in, and she couldn’t go back knowing what she did. But someone had to try and protect Argon and that meant she _had_ to go back. Her thoughts went in circles, over and over and over. Grid, what had changed?

“…So…what happens now?” Beck asked suddenly, voice quiet. She raised her eyes to look at him, his dark brown eyes cautiously hopeful. Paige swallowed hard, hands still on his disk. Their fingers were touching.

“Now…I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’m supposed to take you in, but with everything that’s happened I don’t think that’s an option.” She raised her head, listening as a lightjet flew overhead; they must have still been searching for Beck. Sooner or later they’d be found. She frowned. “Even if I really should.”

“Paige…” He sighed heavily. She shook her head, looking back at him.

“It’s my job, Beck. I’m a soldier. My duty is clear.”

“Is it?” He asked more firmly, raising one eyebrow. “Your own people framed you—tried to _derezz_ you. And in case you missed it, they almost derezzed all of _my_ people. How can you still be loyal to that?”

She sighed. “That was Pavel. And he had no authority to—”

“No authority?” Beck yelped, leaning back as Paige grimaced at his sudden increase in volume. “Authority doesn’t _care_ , Paige. Dyson was this—” He lifted one hand, holding his thumb and pointer finger scant millimeters apart, “—to taking my eyes out!”

She shook her head a bit. “I’ll admit that General Dyson can be a little much, but Clu wouldn’t have let him—”

“Clu ordered him to!” 

Paige blinked, startled. Clu lying to them was one thing; she could rationalize it as him trying to prevent further casualties by holding back an uprising for as long as he could. But that—no. No. She frowned deeply. “Well if you hadn’t gone and made yourself such a paragon of chaos, then maybe he wouldn’t have had to!” She hissed irately. Beck blinked, then narrowed his eyes at her.

“So this is all my fault?”

“Yes!” Paige slapped a hand against the ground, the chill of puddled rain sloshing over her fingers. “If you’d just stuck to your directive, none of this would have happened!”

Beck threw his hands up. “I am sticking to my directive!” He yelled, then quickly had to catch himself as the motion nearly toppled him clean over onto his back. Paige didn’t reach forward to help him up. She frowned at him instead.

“You’re a mechanic, Beck. Not a soldier.”

“Then explain why, “ He groaned, managing to lever himself back upright, “Why fighting and protecting programs makes more sense than fixing bikes ever did!”

“I don’t know!” Paige exploded, startling them both. She swallowed hard, scrubbing her face. Water clung to her hair, her skin as she said more quietly, “Some glitch in your programming?” Except that couldn’t be it. He was right; she’d seen him try to fix things as a mechanic, and had seen him in action as a fighter. Maybe it was just his training, but he’d seemed a thousand times more at home fighting her than he had trying to fix the shot up train. She frowned behind her hand as Beck continued.

“I don’t think so. I mean—look at you. You were a medic who became a soldier and you’re not having problems. How does that work?”

If only he knew. She shook her head, lowering her hand to her lap, his disk cold between them. “I had my code altered. My directive was shifted.” She blinked. It couldn’t be. Could it? Beck frowned at her.

“…What do you mean, altered?”

“I mean that. I was reprogrammed…” She frowned, looking up at him. “And maybe you were, too.”

Letting his questioning sound wash over her, Paige reached back and palmed her disk. Rather than kick it on, she turned it sideways and brought up the display, brow furrowed. Memory storage, suit modifications, helmet mods—there. Base code. She scrolled through it in the dim light of the projection until she came to the section she was looking for, the code flaring red as she tapped it. No editing access, of course, but it remained open. 

“Here,” She said firmly, “This is the code that was altered to shift my directive. Yours might be the same.”

Beck frowned. Silently, he took up his disk, flipping through windows and sliders until he came to his own base code. Paige watched as it scrolled, familiar strings and command lines disappearing too fast to see clearly but giving her enough of a glimpse to recognize them as security code. Was it true? Could Beck be more than a mechanic? She frowned deeply as he found the string for his directive, holding her disk up so they could compare the two. Beck swallowed hard after a second of staring; the two weren’t an exact match, but there was no mistaking the shared command. She looked at him through their displays, his eyes wide.

“…Paige…who shifted your directive?” He whispered, voice unsteady.

“Clu.”

His disk shut off. Slowly, she shut hers off as well, core spinning quick as she put the pieces together. Beck’s directive had been altered and the memory removed, if it was there at all. He’d been trained by _Tron_ of all programs and had taken to it despite his more peaceful directive. Clu wanted him intact, and she was beginning to doubt it was entirely to remove Beck from the field. Slowly, she looked up at him. He was staring at his dual-colored disk with wide, unseeing eyes. Swallowing back her trepidation, she raised a hand to put on his cheek. He startled, looking at her as she shook her head.

“You’re not going to stop fighting, are you?” 

Slowly, cautiously, he reached up to cup her hand in his. “No.” He said just as quietly as she’d spoken, a hint of violet flickering across his arm. “I can’t. Not after—not after what they’ve done.”

She knew he wasn’t just talking about what Clu must have done to him before he could even remember. She closed her eyes. “You’re going to get yourself derezzed. You do know that, right?”

He leaned forward until they were touching foreheads, the feel of him warm across her skin. “I know. I’ve known that since I started.” He sighed quietly. “But I can’t stop now. Not until it’s done.”

“You really think you have to? Clu’s just…trying to look out for the Grid.” The words rang hollow, sour across her tongue. 

“Paige.” Beck whispered, his forehead warm against hers, “You know we can’t trust him.”

We. Her core tightened. We. Grid, he was soft-cored. He was right, though.

“I know. I just…” She sighed, her other hand coming to rest on the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his short hair. “Tesler brought twenty-thousand soldiers. Clu brought almost five times that number, and there’s still thousands of them left. How can you expect to fight all of that?”

“We’re not. We’re leaving Argon.”

She leaned back, opening her eyes to contemplate the soft look on his face. He was watching her as if she’d created something big, something important; soft eyes, parted mouth, curious hope glimmering in the depths of his code. Her core twisted. We. Soft-cored to the bitter end. That’s what Beck would be. Grid, she didn’t want to take that away from him. She pulled her hands away from his frame.

“No. You are.” He blinked at her, watching as she stood up. “I can’t go with you.” She said quietly, clicking her disk back to her port. He stared at her.

“What?”

“I have to try and protect Argon, Beck. Someone has to.” She looked up, taking a steadying breath. “And Grid knows Pavel’s not going to do it.”

Slowly, painfully, Beck got to his feet. She hugged herself to keep from reaching out to him, watching as he clicked his disk to his port and took a deep breath of his own. His circuits flickered once, twice, then held firm. He reached out, pulling her hand until he held it in his, grip warm and strong.

“…I never could have changed your mind, could I?” He asked softly. Paige shook her head.

“No more than I could have changed yours.”

He smiled a little. She smiled back just a touch, core twisting harder. Now she was getting soft. She opened her mouth, then stopped as a roar sounded behind her. It was the roar of a bike coming closer and closer! She whirled around in time to see white circuits skid around the corner, a female-designate with her accent marks masked taking the turn at speed, one arm outstretched. The next two nanos felt like an eternity as the bike closed in; Beck looked from her to the rider, an apologetic look crossing his face, before he reached forward and let the rider pull him onto the bike, disappearing in a streak of white and black.

Paige watched them go, the stirred up air of their passing kicking her hair up as she swallowed hard. There was nothing else she could do for Beck now. She had her own goal to focus on. Maybe, in some future milli, they would meet again.

“…Good luck, Beck.”

——

“You okay?!” Mara shouted over the roar of her engine, weaving through the streets. Clinging to her shoulders, Beck grit his teeth. Every byte of his code was screaming and if he took another hit he’d crash but—

“I’ll manage! How’d you find me?”

“Like following the explosions was hard!” She skidded sideways, his added weight causing her bike to drift, the slower turn giving her a moment to throw her disk at a barricade on the road ahead. Alarms began to blare as she shot through the gap, glimmers of red appearing from side-streets and engines revving behind them both, soldiers on bikes dropping into pursuit. Mara cursed fiercely, palming her disk, but Beck tapped her shoulder and reached for his own.

“Just keep steady!” Beck yelled, his weight balanced on her shoulder as half stood to throw his disk behind. It curved through the air, slicing four bikes to cubes before returning, and he yelped as she shot off down the street and onto the highway, looping curves and twisting turns shooting them across Argon. More bikes fell in around them, their riders closing the gaps, three on either side. Only their lined formations kept their light-walls off, and only Mara gunning her bike as fast as it would go shot them out ahead with a jerking jolt of speed.

“Do these guys ever _shut down?_!” Mara yelled in frustration as the six soldiers continued to follow. Clinging to her shoulder, Beck chanced a look back. Six behind, chopper overhead…no. They weren’t going to stop. Not with Beck in his still glimmering whites to be a beacon for all to see. He frowned deeply.

“Get us off the highway! We can lose them in the city!” He hoped. Mara’s growl rattled up her frame and into his fingers as she drifted sideways again, white light-wall causing their crop of ground based pursuers to have to stop or impact. One impacted anyway, the air-rattling explosion of a bike making Beck’s audio input ring as Mara shot back down off the highway and into the city proper, using every byte of knowledge she had of Argon’s twists and turns to outmaneuver their pursuers.

And there were plenty of those. Beck clung to her shoulders as she took a hard turn off the highway and back onto the roads and alleys of Argon’s main roadways. Bikes roared in pursuit, falling away one by one as the roads grew narrower and narrower the closer they got to the alleys. But one still followed, and a laugh echoed through the streets. A familiar laugh. He turned over his shoulder, biting back a harsh curse as he caught sight of Pavel drawing near, disk glowing as if on fire. Quickly turning back, he leaned forward enough to be heard over the roar.

“Slow down!” He yelled, quickly snapping out a hand and grabbing a broken pipe from a nearby recycle bin. Mara jolted beneath his other hand, startled.

“Are you glitching?! He’ll be on us in a second!” She yelled back, voice high.

“Just do it!” He hefted the pipe, remembering, and as Mara slowed down, he could feel the heat from Pavel’s disk sizzling along his side. Pavel swung widely, trying to hit them even as Mara jerked her bike to avoid the impact. He was only going to get one shot at this. Hefting the pipe over his shoulder, Beck struck. Flynn himself must have been watching over them, because the pipe caught in the spokes of Pavel’s front wheel and immediately his bike began to buck and weave. With a yell, Pavel was forced to take both controls and try to right his bike, giving Mara enough time to pour on the speed and rush away. Beck could faintly make out Pavel yelling in alarm and the forced derezzing of a vehicle, before he sighed in relief as their bike roared on ahead into the alleys and blind turns of the inner city. Mara took turn after turn, doubling back on her path more than once to alter her trail before finally shooting into the tunnel entrance that gave quick access to this part of the city. Though damp, the tunnel was empty and once inside, she derezzed the bike. For a long moment, she gripped Beck’s arm as they listened for any pursuit.

For a long moment, neither dared to so much as blink. Thunder rumbled overhead, another storm threatening to crack open on them, but besides that, it was quiet. Distant vehicles roared, the pursuit in the district overhead making the ceiling rattle, but none came close. The tunnels remained quiet. They were alone.

With a heavy sigh and a soft groan, Beck lowered himself to sit against the wall of the tunnel, not bothering to correct his slide. Everything hurt, from his port to his feet, and he just wanted to go into sleep mode for a while. But he couldn’t, not yet, and he forced himself to look up at Mara. His old friend had her arms crossed over her chest, eyes on the roof of the tunnel as it rattled, lip caught between her teeth in her familiar expression of concern.

“Did the others get out?” Beck asked softly. She jolted, looking down at him, before tucking a wild lock of hair away from her face.

“Yeah. It’s just me and Zed left now. Well, us and Tron. He’s still flying around up there.” She made a face at that, but Beck smiled lightly. Somehow he wasn’t surprised Tron had elected to stay. Still, it was good to hear his old crew had made it clear. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

“Good. I knew being a distraction would work out.”

“Oh, you definitely managed that.” She snorted, dropping into a crouch beside him. “The whole city is on high alert. I don’t think even a bit could get around topside without getting spotted now.” She stopped, then whacked Beck’s arm when he grinned. “Don’t look so proud of yourself. You’re about a step away from dropping and derezzing, aren’t you?”

His grin became a grimace. “…Maybe two steps.” He hedged, contorting to reach for his disk. It had been simple enough to ignore the pain while they were rushing for their lives, but now everything was starting to hurt again. “Tesler fights dirty.” Extremely dirty. He frowned at his disk, slowly patching the new injuries. He was starkly aware of Mara watching him, her eyes roving over his render and fresh blue injuries clashing against older patches. Only when the patch had settled and he’d docked his disk did she shake her head, still staring.

“Is it…always like this?” She asked voice still quiet as she contemplated him. Beck inclined his head back up at her.

“Sometimes it’s easier, sometimes it’s harder. Tesler’s always a problem.” But he wasn’t usually this angry. Something must have happened to have pushed him over that edge. Had Clu threatened him? Pavel certainly hadn’t changed, so maybe only Tesler was in danger. Paige hadn’t seemed too concerned about her own disk. She was more worried about Argon, and he couldn’t blame her. Gridbugs, but he hoped she’d make it. …Oh, who was he kidding. Of course she’d make it. She always did. He bit back a smile at the thought.

“Always, huh?” Mara asked suddenly, jolting him from his thoughts. He looked at her, actually looked, and couldn’t put a word to the look on her face. She looked torn between screaming and breaking something. Someone, maybe. She looked down at him, eyes glimmering in the dim light of the tunnel.

“…Why did you do it? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“There was never a good time, and I…” Couldn’t work up the nerve. He sighed. “I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“Beck.” Mara stopped him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did you even want to tell us?”

For a nano, he blinked at her. But then the words struck with all the force of a lightning bolt on his port and he scrambled to a seated position, ignoring the flare of pain from every single injury as he managed to rise with a yelp.

“Of course I did!” Before she could step away he reached out, clasping his hand around her forearm. She blinked at him but didn’t move as he said, “Mara, I wanted to tell you when I first started!”

“Then why didn’t you? Why did you—” She paused to take a breath, then said, “Why did you take all of this on your own?”

“I was trying to keep you safe,” He responded, tone almost pleading. Pleading with her to understand, or to listen in general? He couldn’t tell. “It was bad enough dodging the soldiers on my own. You know Tesler doesn’t play around.”

And she did know. He knew she knew. It was Tesler’s word that put her on a train to the games. She’d been there, watching as Beck had almost been derezzed in that mismatched fight beneath the Square, and then Tesler’s soldiers had almost derezzed her friends. Shot her right out of his ship. One of his Commanders had been ready to have her derezzed. She’d seen the dark side of the Occupation nearly as much as he had. She reached up, grasping at his upper arm.

“No he doesn’t,” She acquiesced. “But you know I can take care of myself, Beck.” 

Giving her an unconvinced look with a furrowed brow, Beck shook his head. “That’s not what this is about. I know you can fight, Mara, but this isn’t a game.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She yelled, surprising both Beck and herself with her sudden volume. She forced herself to stop, taking another deep breath. “I know it’s not a game. I know we could all get derezzed at any nano, but you still should have told us.” She looked up at him, and he watched the anger drain out of her face as she tightened her grip on his arm. In the end, only hurt was left behind, because that’s what she was, he realized. Hurt that he hadn’t told her. Hurt that he hadn’t let her help. His core twisted. “We could have helped you, if you’d just trusted us…” She stopped herself, shaking her head. 

“I just wish you’d trusted me.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. But then he sighed, ducking his head. “It was never about not trusting you. It was about not losing you like we lost Bodhi.” Senseless, unable to stop it, and painful to this nano. He closed his eyes. “When I saw it was you with Rasket and Moog, I almost crashed right there. And when you wouldn’t leave, I thought it was going to be Bodhi all over again.”

But it wasn’t about him. It had never been about him. Tron had been right all that time ago. It was about them, and his decision had led them here. He watched as she raised her head to look at him, bright eyes glimmering in the dim light. She tightened her grip on his arm.

“Beck, I…”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. You’re right to be mad.”

“Yeah, I am.” She scrunched up her nose, “But I can…kind of see why you did it. It’s been hard, hasn’t it?”

“Harder than you know.” He nodded, shoulders slumping heavily. Tron had helped, and he’d helped a lot once they’d gotten past the mountain that was Dyson, but lying to his friends had weighed on his core for nearly the entire time. Now that they knew, the weight was replaced with shame. He should have told them sooner, but there was no redoing this. No restoration from a previous version to save his pride. “But you’re right about all of it. I should have told you and Zed a long time ago.” Forcing himself to look up, he looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry.” He finished quietly, trying not to think about how they’d likely never forgive him for this. He’d tried to do the right thing, and this was the consequence. Mara sighed heavily.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry too.” He jolted, looking at her as she swallowed hard, “I should have noticed sooner. I should have…” She trailed off, grip tightening on his arm. “I said some awful things to you, Beck. Things I shouldn’t have, after…after Able…” She couldn’t finish. Beck’s face fell.

“Mara, it’s okay—”

“No,” She interrupted, clenching her free hand into a fist, [ _cease_ ] bouncing down his arm, “It’s not. You’ve been looking out for us for who knows how long and all I’ve done is yell at you. That’s not fair.”

“No,” He agreed, “But it’s okay.” He reached over, putting his other hand on her shoulder to bounce [ _trust/friend_ ] down her circuits and smiling softly when she looked up. “I did kind of earn that yelling.” He paused, then said, “Although, I do have to admit something.”

“What?”

“You are really scary when you start yelling. Scarier than Tesler.” He said lightly, tilting his head in her direction, still smiling. “And I’ve been fighting him for a long time. You should be proud.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “Don’t joke about almost losing your disk, you bit-brain.” She sighed. “I…really should have been there.”

“And I should have explained before now. We’re even.” He breathed in, then patted her shoulder. “So. Friends?” He asked softly, as if he was unsure she would answer. She blinked, then smiled softly.

“Friends.” She nodded, then gave him a stern look and said, “I’m still a little mad at you, though.”

Beck laughed quietly. “I can live with that.”

“Good.” Mara stated, clasping both of his arms. “Because you’re going to have to. Now come on—” She rose to her feet, all but hauling him up with her before settling his arm over her shoulders to help take his weight. “We should get back to the others before Zed comes looking for us. You know how he gets.”

Yes, he did. They both did. Beck smiled a little as they started walking in a mostly-easy silence, Mara’s grip strong on his arm. It felt almost like old times, even as he caught her looking at him with undisguised curiosity.

“What?”

She looked at him sideways. “Just one question. That friend of yours—dark and stoic?” When he nodded she continued, “Is he really Tron?”

“Yes…” Beck’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

She shrugged casually. “No reason. I just thought he’d be taller.”

Beck couldn’t help it. He laughed.

—

"You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” Tron asked with an exasperated sigh as he walked towards the pair of young programs walking down the tunnel. Mara sighed quietly as Tron took some of Beck’s weight off of her, but Beck simply smiled sheepishly as he limped between his friends. The large patch across his chest glimmered faintly in the dim light of the tunnels, and his sides were marked by red-green burns, but both he and Mara were mobile. Back at the access ladder, Zed’s quiet sigh of relief was swallowed by the rumble of a tank overhead, and the young mechanic frowned.

“So…what now?” He asked quietly, clutching at his elbow, “Do we leave like the others did?”

“That would be ideal, but it’s no longer an option.” Ruby said with a shake of her head and an open palmed wave of her hand as everyone looked at her. “The distraction worked to ensure your crew got clear, but now the entire city is on lockdown.” She sighed, gripping her elbows tightly. “Our best bet is to find a place to wait topside and get some rest a bit.” She quirked a brow at Beck. “You seriously need it.”

His answering sheepish smile was more of a grimace. Tron shifted his grip, taking more of Beck’s weight, but everyone went silent as two more tanks rumbled above them. Being under the main highway, Tron griped to himself, meant no silence at all. He sighed within his helmet, then looked past Ruby towards the tunnels.

“Then we’d better get moving. It won’t be long before they’re canvassing the tunnels.”

“If they haven’t started already,” Zed grumbled, pausing for a moment as thunder cracked overhead. Then he groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “And it’s going to rain again! Great!”

“Zed…” Mara sighed as they slowly began to walk forward, Ruby pinning Tron with a look before she turned away. Beneath his visor, Tron grimaced. He knew what that look meant, but wouldn’t let himself think about it. No matter how logical Ruby’s thought process was, he wouldn’t accept it.

He wouldn’t leave Beck behind, no matter how much a part of him wanted to go and see Yori.

And so, the little group of five plodded along down the empty tunnel. Puddles of rainwater had pooled in dips and divots, making channels between them and causing the ground to become slippery. It was slow going back towards the residential district, but for a while they walked in relative silence, Tron’s audio inputs strained for any sound of approaching attack.  
All he heard was Zed’s inane chatter up ahead, as the mechanic quizzed Ruby upside down and sideways.

“So Clu really doesn’t care what’s going to happen to Argon?” He asked, eyes wide and attention off the ground in front of him. Ruby snapped out a hand to grab him by the arm as he nearly slipped in a puddle, causing Mara to sigh loudly.

“He cares,” Ruby said as she righted Zed back on his feet, “It’s just that, for him, the costs would outweigh the benefits of keeping Argon.” She looked back over her shoulder at Beck and Tron and then said, “Losing Able’s crew is acceptable. But the rest of the town is ready to side with you both, if given the right push.”

“And Clu can’t accept that,” Tron said. Ruby inclined her head, causing Beck to sigh quietly.

“So they’re all going to get derezzed,” He said, head hanging. Tron frowned down at him, eyes softening faintly even though no one could see them. 

“One way or another,” Ruby confirmed, turning her attention back to the road. “Argon’s about ready to frag itself, and you don’t want to be here when it does.”

“Is it that bad?” Mara asked. Ruby made a soft humming noise. 

“Worse,” She said, then lifted a hand and began to tick off on her fingers, “For one, Clu won’t tolerate dissent. He’ll probably have Tesler do it, but anyone who remotely breaks a law or rule will be sent to the games. For another,” She paused, looking up as a quiet hiss began above them. Water began to trickle down from access grates and drain pipes curling up the sides of the tunnels, slow for now. The storm had broken. “For another, Argon isn’t in the best of shape. All this rain isn’t a good sign.”

“It’s the Grid,” Tron said, causing everyone to look at him, “It’s automatic. Trying to keep this part of the system from total collapse.”

Only, without an Admin to properly guide it, the System would just keep pouring until everything remotely sentient had washed out to Sea. A complete wipe. He shook his head, catching sight of Mara and Beck’s identical frowns.

“It’s…rained a lot since the Occupation rolled in, hasn’t it?” Beck asked, looking from Mara to Zed. Both nodded, and Beck looked back to Tron. “What happens if the Grid can’t keep up with the damage?”

System Failure. Tron shook his head to dislodge the thought, then said, “It’ll ping a System Admin to quarantine the damage. With our only Admin being Clu…” His core lurched, the world stepping sideways. He blinked. “Argon will likely be sandboxed and reformatted.”

All three mechanics stared at him, eyes wide and renders desaturating. Ruby simply nodded.

“One more reason to get out of Argon as soon as possible,” She said, turning back down the tunnels. “We’ll go back to the apartment so Beck can rest for a bit, but I want us out of here before the next Milli.”

No one protested. Slowly, they continued the long trek back to safety. Their slow pace dragged what would have been a fifteen micro walk into an eighth of a milli, but eventually they returned to the residential district where the crew had taken shelter. They waited, Ruby on the ladder, as they watched a squad of soldiers march through the alleyway and practically up-end the building. No one dared to move, Tron gritting his teeth so hard the bones in his jaw protested.

This wasn’t right. How Clu thought he could just keep getting away with this—! Flynn would have had his disk for this.

If Flynn was even still alive to care about any of them, a quiet part of himself chimed in. If he even cared about them at all. It had been a…very long time since his friend had fled the Coup and the Portal went dark for the last time. For him to not come back, for him to abandon them all…the thought caught in Tron’s process like a bad read. He shook it off as Ruby pried open the access cover, droplets of rain sprinkling down into the tunnel through their new entrance as she stuck her head out into the street. A moment later, she looked back down.

“All clear. Move.”

Zed scrambled up the ladder right behind her, reaching down to help Beck up the final rungs as Mara pushed from below. With one last look over his shoulder to check that they were clear, Tron nimbly climbed up and darted across the alley, into the apartment building they’d abandoned just an eighth ago. It wasn’t exactly as they’d left it; furniture was overturned, any trinkets from the previous owners shattered or up-ended onto the floor. The soldiers, Tron thought to himself, and when they’d found nothing of interest they’d simply marched on, basic programming moving them down the list of tasks.

He’d almost been one of them. He shuddered, took a quick breath, then turned back out the door.

“Clear.” Quiet. He turned to Beck. “Can you make the stairs?”

Beck looked from him to the stairs, all three flights of them, and Tron’s core stuttered for a moment. The tables had turned, it seemed. He gestured to the one couch that was still upright, trying not to watch as Zed and Mara settled their injured friend down on the slightly lumpy cushions with a soft groan. It had been a very long milli for all of them. Soon, hopefully, they’d all get to rest. He turned to Ruby.

“Are we still on course for Lithium?” Tron asked. Ruby looked up from where she was peering out the alleyway window, then inclined her head.

“We are,” She replied in an almost too even tone, “But we’ll have to take the long route through Radon and Thallium first. I won’t have us drag half of Clu’s army straight to them.”

Behind his visor, Tron frowned. Beck’s quiet “Them?” went unanswered, while Mara leaned forward on one knee.

“How are we supposed to get to Radon, though?” Mara asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean, it’s not like the trains to Bismuth or Xenon are still running. Not with the lockdown.”  
Ruby frowned, brow furrowed. Looking out the window, Tron mirrored her expression. In less than a half a milli, Clu had managed to lock Argon down entirely. Outside, tanks and bikes still rumbled and rattled down the highway. If they tried to leave, they’d be caught at a checkpoint. If they tried to stay, they’d be derezzed. He turned his eyes upward, then stopped.

“There is the Spire,” Tron tilted his head towards the outskirts as everyone looked at him, “It’s our old base. Clu shouldn’t know about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “We can wait there for the heat to die down, or go through the Outlands to Gallium instead.”

“Only problem is,” Beck extended a hand, “it’s fifty kilometers outside Argon’s eastern gate.” He shook his head. “No way we could get through that right now, because it’s the—”

“The most heavily guarded checkpoint in town,” Zed finished for him, dragging both hands down his face. Mara tilted her head skywards with a quiet sigh.

“We’ll think of something, I guess. Not like we have any other option.” She said, though she didn’t look convinced. Neither did Ruby, but the Siren nodded and stepped back towards the alleyway door.

“Zed, Mara,” Ruby said, “You two come with me. We’ll secure transport. And you—” She turned on Beck, sitting on the couch, “Put yourself into sleep mode. I want that code patched, you hear me?”

Beck held up both hands in a gesture for peace. “Acknowledged!”

Ruby smiled. Tron turned away to stifle a snort, finally folding back his helmet as the door whooshed shut behind Ruby and her two mechanic followers. With a groan, Beck sank back into the couch.

“Remind me not to get on her bad side…” he breathed softly to himself, though Tron heard it anyway.

“Most Sirens are like that,” He said, “You’ll get used to them if you meet enough.”

“Really?” Beck raised an eyebrow, “They’ve always seemed so…quiet. On point.”

“It’s their directive,” Tron shrugged, then frowned as something odd flickered across Beck’s face. It looked almost like pain, but it wasn’t physical. Something was bothering him, but…what?

“Mara—Mara, come on!” Zed called suddenly, pulling their attention back to the door as it whooshed open, letting Mara inside.

“I know, I know—just let me get something real quick!” Mara shouted back over her shoulder, trotting for the staircase on the other side of the room before she stopped as she turned back around. No one moved as Mara finally caught sight of Tron’s uncovered face, and the female-designate paused for a moment, blinking at Tron’s uncovered face, before she shook her head and kept running. Beck leaned his head back on the couch cushion.

“Think you startled her.”

“How?”

He grinned, unrepentant. “By having a face and not just a helmet.”

Tron blinked, then huffed and turned away to hide his growing smile. Mara’s footsteps disappeared with the whoosh of an apartment door, and he peered out the window at the city beyond. Lightjets and Recognizers still flew in the blue, search patterns combing the lower levels of the city. So far, they’d been lucky. But he knew they couldn’t hold that luck for much longer.

“We should split up.” Tron said firmly, watching Beck visibly startle in the glass of the window, “You’ll be able to get clear if I draw Clu away from you.” He looked at Beck from the corner of his eye. “You’ll be safer.”

Beck blinked at him for a moment, patches on his face gleaming in the light. Then he frowned.

“No,” he said firmly, “I’m going with you.”

“Beck—” Tron frowned. Beck shook his head.

“Tron.” Beck turned, half his body over the back of the couch, “Wherever you’re going, I’m coming with you. In case you forgot, the last time I left you alone without backup,” he snarked, “You nearly ended up in a viral collapse. Not happening again. Besides—” He waved a hand in the air, “They’ll stand a better chance of getting out if we’re not dragging the Occupation down on their heads.”

“And what about you?” Tron asked him softly, trying to hold back from voicing his concern. Beck stopped, drew back, and then looked at his hands. He was silent for a few nanos before before he shook his head and drew in a breath.

“It’s not about me, it’s about them.” He looked up, face firm even as Tron grimaced at his own words played back at him. “What matters is that we continue the fight, right? Mara and Zed aren’t trained. If Ruby can get them to safety, that’s all that matters.” He turned back to sit properly, dropping his hands to rest on his knees and rubbing at a small damage mark on one knuckle. “We can just…figure the rest out as we go.”

“Is that your plan?” 

“No,” Beck snorted, “I don’t make plans anymore.” He leaned back again, looking at Tron upside down over the back of the couch. “Plans tend to get fragged when you’re involved. It’s like you’re a magnet for trouble or something.”

Tron made an insulted noise, reaching out to give Beck’s head a gentle shove. Beck just laughed, shoving at Tron’s wrist in retaliation.

“Go to sleep,” Tron said with a put-upon sigh, “Your logic center is clearly failing.”

Beck snickered, but did lower himself into a horizontal position. Tron shook his head with a roll of his eyes. Betas. Always Betas. How would Alan-One have dealt with this situation? A part of him still wanted to know, and yet…he’d been abandoned twice over. Maybe it was best if he just never found out. He closed his eyes.

“Tron?”

He opened them. “Sleep, Beck.”

“Yeah, I just…” Beck sighed, frame out of sight behind the couch back. “There’s…something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He went quiet but for the sound of a circuit flickering. Before Tron could turn around he quickly spoke up, “Tesler’s ship? The explosion? How many explosives was that?"

"One." Tron said flatly. Beck sat bolt upright, and Tron rolled his eyes at his friend’s wide-eyed reflection in the window glass, the rumble of a lightjet covering his quiet chuckle. "What? I'm not an engineering program. A runaway explosion is hardly the worst outcome."

"If you don't want to call that "worst", Beck breathed as he sagged back down again, "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"And here I thought you'd appreciate Tesler's ship being gone."

Beck’s answer was a groan muffled by both palms. Tron opened his mouth to reply, only to stop as Mara called out from the upper level.

“Uh, Tron?” Her voice wavered, shaky and afraid, “Do you know what assignment Gold is supposed to be?”

Gold? Tron frowned, turning around. Beck rose to his elbows and frowned as Tron walked towards the staircase. Orange was certain platoons of soldiers, Yellow was Command, but Gold? He stopped, hand on the railing.

“Clu’s Honor Guard,” He called back up to her, “Why?”

“Because—” She peered down at him halfway over the railing, hair drifting from her face, “There’s three gold-lined jets taking a pair of Recognizers out of the city.” Her eyes were wide. “Towards a spire in the Outlands.”

The realization struck home in a nano. Tron bolted up the stairs, taking the turn so fast he nearly slipped, and Mara jumped back with a yelp. Beck called out to him from below, but he didn’t wait. He paid no attention to the footsteps behind him, shouldering open the rooftop access door as thunder rumbled and rain pattered against the awning that shielded the exit from the worst of most storms. He swung around, looking due east and—sure enough, there were the jets Mara had mentioned, two large Recognizers between them. Tron held on to the door frame, watching as his core spun up faster and faster. They couldn’t know what the structure was. They had to just be exploring the area, out looking for high priority targets.

“Did he send them out looking for us?” Beck suddenly asked from behind, and Tron turned enough to see that Mara had helped her friend hobble up the stairs. He shook his head, turning back out to the Outlands.

“I don’t know. It would make sense, but—”

He kept his eyes on the tiny group. It would make sense if they were just scouting, looking for any escapees or signs of dissent. What else could they possibly want out there? It was nothing but snow covered cliffs and canyons. Why would they go out there?

Core in his throat, Tron went rigid as the tiny group turned, altering their course and heading directly for the Spire. For a corestopping micro, the Recognizers hung beside the fortress, one on either side, orange lines reflecting in the glass. For a moment, Tron wondered if they were simply scanning it, checking for anything in the oddly shaped stone, as their escort circled around and around. But then he saw it: bright blue energy beginning to gather between the pairs of thrusters, just like when the single Recognizer had turned Able’s Garage into nothing more than rubble and burnt code. He knew what was coming. Just one of those had leveled the garage. Two? Beck inhaled sharply and Mara yelped, but by the time Tron turned around Beck had already turned his back and pushed Mara down to shield her, braced with both hands by her head. Tron followed him down, covering the two as best he could, and in the next instant the very Grid itself seemed to shake

Tron didn’t look up, didn’t need to. The energy blast was as loud as a thunderclap directly overhead, loud enough to send his audio inputs ringing, and the shockwave that followed rattled everything to the the core. The buildings nearby shook, rumbling like a tank was rattling past, and glass shattered. Inside the apartments all along the road, programs screamed. In the mountains, snow tumbled in rapid avalanches caused by the shockwave. Tron cursed between his teeth, forced to wait helplessly as the rumbling stopped. Argon stilled again, and slowly, he raised his head. 

The Spire was gone. In its place was nothing but empty space, the Recognizers still hovering with their escort. A plume of code dust wafted out towards the Outlands, the only remnant of the fortress that had once overlooked the city like a watchful eye. Beside him, Beck and Mara turned to stare.

“Somehow,” Beck whispered, “I don’t think this can get any worse.

Somehow, Tron was inclined to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changes in life circumstances=changes in update schedule. bear with me as i sort this out, folks.


	8. 00111000

"So, let me get this straight,” Zed said as he paced a circle between the two couches in the main room of the apartment building. Rain pattered on the tarp keeping the shattered window covered as he continued, “Pavel’s the one who blew up the garage?”

“That’s what Paige said,” Beck answered, ignoring the twin looks of exasperation from Tron and Mara on either side of him, “So yeah. Something like that.”

“Okay…and Clu’s forces just blew up your old base?”

“Right,” Tron grimaced, leaning against the wall. “But their orders may have just been to check out the odd rock formation. It might not have had anything to do with us.”

Ruby, sitting on the arm of the other couch, turned her head to look at him. “Do you really believe that?” She asked, voice oddly quiet. She and Zed had both been in the alleyway when the Spire had gone up, and both were now marked with a myriad of patches from the gashes they’d earned as every window for six square blocks had broken from the shockwave. 

“No,” Tron sighed after a moment, “I don’t.”

Zed kept pacing. “And on top of all that, the city is absolutely crawling with soldiers.” He stopped, bringing his hands down from where he’d smacked fist to palm just below his chin. He turned to Beck and Tron, eyes wide and expression incredulous. “Tell me again how we’re supposed to deal with this?!”

“Zed…” Beck sighed, leaning forward and raking a hand through his hair. He couldn’t blame his friend for his concern, but… “This doesn’t change anything. As soon as the storm clears, we head for the highway.”

“On foot, though?” Mara leaned her head on one fist, arm on the back of the couch. “It’s a long walk, even to Gallium. We’d get spotted for sure.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Beck shook his head. He spread his hands as he said, “Without the Garage, I’m not sure where we could get a truck big enough to hold the five of us.”

“I might,” Ruby replied, head tilted, “But it’s under Occupation control now. We’ll need a distraction. And don’t—” She pointed with one hand at Beck and Tron, “Volunteer again. You’d bring Clu down on your heads and that’s the last thing we need.”

Beck and Tron shared a look, then looked back at Ruby. Beck shook his head.

“Is there another option?” He asked, only to look at Mara as she sat bolt upright with a small gasp and a quiet “oh!”. Everyone stared at her as she reached to her hip, pulling a small baton from her holster. Beck’s eyes went wide.

“Is that—”

“Moog’s painter tool,” Mara confirmed, twirling the little baton between her fingers. She smiled ruefully. “I never did give it back to him before he and Rasket left town.”

Behind him, Tron made a small sound of astonishment. Zed looked from Mara to Beck, then buried his face in both of his palms.

“Grid,” His voice was muffled, but no less exasperated, “How have you two _survived_ this long?”

“Luck, no doubt,” Ruby said, leaning forward. Beck turned to her, then leaned back at the gleam in her eyes as she continued, “Mara, do you know how to make explosives?”

Mara blinked. “Uh…no?” She shook her head, looking at Beck, who could only shrug. He’d never manufactured a grenade, either. A quick glance at Tron earned him a shake of his mentor’s head, and he turned back as Mara reached up to scratch at the edge of her patch. “That was Moog’s thing, too. I mean, we did a few code-bombs, but he was the one who made them. I just made sure the plans worked.” She looked up. “Why?”

“Because,” Ruby smiled as she stood up, “Free Code can make for some very bright explosions.”

“Bright enough to cause a distraction,” Beck breathed out. Ruby turned that grin on him and nodded, before she looked to Tron. 

“You wouldn’t know where to get your hands on some old grenade code, would you?”

“Ammo dump down the hill,” Tron said, pushing off the wall, “But it’s probably guarded.” He turned to Beck. “Stay here. Rest. We won’t take long.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea—” Beck began, only to be cut off by Zed’s groan beside him.

“One of these millis, Beck,” Zed said as Mara giggled and headed for the door with Ruby, Tron a pace behind after giving Beck a stern look, “You have _got_ to learn to relax.”

Watching the door whoosh shut, Beck frowned.

“…One of these millis.”

“Which is a funny way of saying never, right?” Zed grumped, slumping down until he was halfway off the couch. Beck had no answer for him. In the silence, Zed rolled his head to look up at him, dark eyes unreadable. For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of unsaid words hanging between them like a shipping container waiting to drop. Beck swallowed hard.

“So,” Zed began, running his tongue over his lips, “long milli, huh?”

Beck blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he laughed tiredly, quietly, and slumped against the couch. “You have no idea.” He chuckled, dragging his hands down his face. Zed nudged his arm, the familiar gesture causing him to look over. Zed was smiling, just a little, and it reached his eyes.

“I can guess. No wonder you kept skipping shifts so often.”

“Yeah, well,” Beck lowered his hands to his knees, “Fighting the Occupation didn’t exactly mesh with fixing bikes.”

“No. I guess it didn’t.” Zed sighed, then shook his head.“I gotta say one thing, though.” 

Beck grimaced, shoulders brushing his ears. “What?”

“You’re nowhere _near_ as lazy as I thought you were.”

Beck couldn’t help it. He laughed again, more energetically this time. Zed chuckled a bit, not nearly as amused, and they both trailed off into silence. But it was lighter than before, easier, and Beck closed his eyes. His head lolled against the couch, systems beginning to slowly shut off in the quiet. It was late, he was still tired, and the next milli promised to be interesting. It was enough to make him want his old Garage days back!

“Will you…tell me how you got started?” Zed asked suddenly, jolting Beck back into full wake mode. He looked at Zed, the look on his friend’s face cautious but curious. Beck frowned, turning the idea over in his head. Zed had the right to know after all Beck had put him through, but at the same time…he sighed.

“If you tell me how you found out in the first place.”

“You said my name.” Zed smiled. When Beck blinked in confusion, his friend shrugged one shoulder. “Remember when all those trucks crashed and Mara went off her programming? The Renegade said my name, and I hadn’t told him.” Beck grimaced, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. Something that small, huh? Zed went on. “That just gave me the idea, though. I started thinking about it, and the times the Renegade showed up matched up pretty well with the times you didn’t show up for work. Things just clicked.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought about it,” Zed said with a sigh, knocking his head back against the cushion. “But I figured there was a reason you hadn’t told anyone. That…” he sighed, “And I was a little scared. I mean, I said some _really_ nasty things, and I just—”

“We’re even.” Beck broke in, smiling faintly. Zed blinked at him, and he nudged his friend’s leg with his foot. “I put you through some nasty doubles, so…”

“So you’re about as crazy as ever, thinking that makes us even.” Zed groaned. Beck chuckled quietly, rolling his shoulders. It really didn’t, but he just didn’t _care_ anymore. With a sigh, he leaned his head back against the couch once more.

“So.” Zed sat up straight after a moment. “How _did_ you get started?”

“Well…”

—

Halfway through the downcycle, only his second in Argon, Clu quietly watched out the window. Tesler had yet again failed to capture Beck. Once again, his General was in medical treatment to restore his hands. Once again, Clu had a decision to make: either leave Tesler alive to fail again, or derezz him and be done with an incompetent fool. Repurposing him probably wouldn’t help at all. His thoughts going in circles—he needed sleep, not more energy--Clu sighed quietly as the door opened to his observation chamber behind him; no rest for the weary, it would seem.

“Just once, Dyson, I wish you’d bring me good news.”

“But then, I wouldn’t be doing my job, sir.” Dyson replied with a smirk. Shaking his head at the old banter, Clu gestured for him to continue. He heard the rasp of a tablet being pulled, but didn’t bother to turn around.

“A message from Commander Nim, sir.”

“On our friends in Argon?”

“Yes. It seems that most of the programs from the Garage—Beck’s coworkers—managed to escape.” Dyson paused, frowning, before saying, “They were last sighted heading for the Harbor. Several ships have left since then and the Harbormaster isn’t talking, unfortunately.” He sighed. “All we know for certain is they were helped by the top Siren from the Coliseum, who hasn’t reported in for work.”

The head Siren—Clu whirled around. “Ruby?” Clu asked incredulously, barely keeping his voice even. Dyson nodded, and Clu turned his attention out the window. Users, of all the Programs to be working with the growing resistance…of course it was _Ruby_. The one Siren that had always toed the line. It was why he had sent her with Tesler’s crew when they’d come to settle Argon: time away from the city was supposed to settle _her_ , too. And yet…

And yet that seemed to not be the case. She had always been too close to Yori, he thought to himself, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d fallen out of line. The only question was if the rest from her command had also been compromised. Sighing through his nose, Clu shook his head.

"...I see." He finally said. Behind him, Dyson inclined his head and tucked the report under his arm.

"Sir. What would you have me do?”

Find Ruby. Find where she’d sent the mechanics. Bring them in and repurpose them all. Use them against the petty rebellion and break Beck, then Tron, in the same nano. But almost sixty programs…no. There would be no time for that. He drew a steadying breath, watching dozens of red-lined ships comb across Argon. He clenched his fists at the small of his back, gloves creaking and joints popping.

“Find Ruby. Where she is, Tron and Beck are.”

"Should they be brought in?"

"Yes. And Dyson," He turned to look over his shoulder, Dyson having bowed his head and begun to back away, “If you find Beck and Tron together?”

“Yes, sir?”

Clu narrowed his eyes. “Make sure Tron watches.”

Dyson smiled.

“With pleasure.”

——

Footsteps. Quiet, tinkling over broken glass that had yet to be swept aside like they didn’t know it was there. A muffled crash in the dark, a soft curse. A door opening and closing across the hall. 

Something was wrong.

Beck opened his eyes to stare blearily at the apartment, the dim light of the down-cycle not helping him shake off the sleep mode. It was quiet, not even Zed’s sleep-mode whistles and clicks to rouse him. He turned his head—no, Zed’s cot was empty. Blinking, Beck stared.

Then, he heard it again.

Footsteps. Beck blinked himself more awake, shaking off the edges of sleep mode.

"Zed?" He called quietly, raising himself to an elbow. The dim light from outside let him pick out the nearly empty apartment, just their cots and someone else’s half-finished project cobbled together from scraps of code on the workbench, but there was no sign of the other program. 

It wasn't the oddest thing; Beck’s system timer had him down for just a quarter milli. Tron and Mara and Ruby probably hadn’t even returned yet. Zed was probably just out stretching his legs, or cleaning up some of the broken glass around the building just to do something with himself. With a quiet promise to himself to go looking if Zed wasn’t in the building, Beck swung himself to sit upright.

“Zed? Is that you?” He called into the hall through the closed door. No response. Not Zed, and not Tron. Slowly, he began to stand up.

"Hello, Beck," Beck stopped halfway off his cot, core grinding to a halt.

"Cyrus..." He breathed, looking up. There, at the door into the hall, Cyrus stood and grinned.

“Miss me?”

Beck stared, eyes wide. Cyrus grinning at him, casually leaning against the doorframe as if he was just there to check on an old friend.

“What?” he asked after a moment of silence, “Something on my face?”

“You’re—” Beck shook his head, finally finding his voice. “You’re supposed to be derezzed!”

“Did Tron tell you that?” Cyrus laughed with a shake of his head. “Oh, Beck. You should know better by now.” He stepped forward, arms loose at his sides. Beck stood up. “You should _really_ know better than to trust him. Besides—” The lines on his face glowed in the dim light of the apartment. “I don’t see him around here. Do you?”

Beck’s core lurched, spinning back up faster. “What did you do to him? And where’s Zed?!” Cyrus had nearly cost Tron’s life the last time they’d fought. If he’d done anything to Tron this time, or if Zed was hurt, Beck would—

Cyrus just laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about your friend. I’ve got him hunting down a lead some blocks from here. As for Tron…well. You’ll see him soon enough.” He continued to step forward. “Now. Be a good program and come with me.”

Beck tensed. His frame still ached, but his energy was high enough. He set his stance, frowning. 

“Sorry. Able always taught me never to go with strange programs.”

Cyrus blinked. Then he sneered, lunging forward with a sharp cry. Beck sidestepped, turning on his heel and running for the door as Cyrus crashed onto his cot. In such close quarters, with nowhere to go, Beck knew he’d be on the losing side of that fight. He burst into the hall, took in the open apartment doors from the stairs to the lobby, then turned on his heel and slammed his palm into the locking mechanism for the apartment he’d just left. The door slammed shut with a whoosh and a click, the lock blaring a warning tone as Cyrus crashed into the door with an aborted yell of anger. Beck stepped back with a gasp, watching, waiting, before he shook himself. What was he doing?! He had to get out of here!

He turned and ran, taking the steps two at a time as the whine of Cyrus’ disk cutting through the doorway echoed through the building. He had to find Tron, but where could he even start looking?! He didn’t know where the ammo storage was, not for sure! And Zed was—Cyrus had said blocks but that put him anywhere in the city, and that was only _if_ Cyrus hadn’t been lying and not done something, hidden either of them in another compressed space trap! He grit his teeth, landing hard on the second level as he missed a step. Upstairs, the door shattered, the cascade of cubes loud to Beck’s audio receptors. Cyrus crowed in triumph, and his footsteps hit the stairs with all the grace of a one-tread tank.

“You can’t run forever, Beck!” Cyrus yelled, heavily modulated voice piercingly loud. “I’ll find you!”

“I’d like to see you try,” Beck whispered to himself as he broke into the alley, taking a quick turn away from the building. Outside there was no sign of a fight anywhere, no gouges in the buildings or stone, no damaged access stairwells alongside the buildings themselves. The rumble of tanks and bikes continued in the distance, but that was there, not here. Here was empty alleyways and Cyrus’ footsteps behind him. Beck cursed, turning quickly into another alleyway. Argon stretched out in his mind, familiar side roads and back alleys a grid pattern across the entire city. This block was full of apartments and small shops, plenty of places to hide a shut-down program in. He could be searching for a full milli and never find Tron, Zed, or the others in all this.

And that was if Tron was still around to be found at all. That was only if Cyrus hadn’t….hadn’t…

The thought made Beck’s core lurch, and he shoved it away. He couldn’t think about Tron being derezzed in some dark alley somewhere. Not after everything they’d gone through. If he’d lost Tron, too, then…Grid. He just couldn’t. 

With a violent internal kick, he shoved the thought away, pushing to run towards a small footpath. Before he got two steps away, he called out in alarm as Cyrus dove through the shell of a window and right into Beck with all the force of a cargo train. They went down hard, rolling and tumbling into the building across the street, before Beck caught his bearings and lashed out with a sharp kick to Cyrus’ middle. With a grunt the rogue program rolled off of Beck, jumping back to his feet in the same instant that Beck did. But where Beck palmed his disk and took up a defensive position, Cyrus simply stood casually, hands loose at his sides and grin firmly plastered on his face despite Beck’s glare.

“Where’s Tron?” Beck snapped, “If you’ve hurt him, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Cyrus scoffed, still smiling. “Derezz me with your bare hands? Please.” He waved a hand in the air. “You don’t derezz programs, Beck. That’s not you.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.” Or perhaps a little _too_ well. Beck shoved that thought away as well, sidestepping to keep Cyrus in view. “Now where is he?”

Cyrus just sighed. “Tron. Tron, Tron, Tron. It’s always Tron with you, isn’t it?” He scoffed again, stepping forward without a care for how Beck raised his brightly glowing disk. “You’re fragged, Beck. A file on skipping repeat.”

“Takes one to know one. But I’m not the one who Tron locked away, remember?” Beck retorted, circuits blazing hot. Cyrus stopped in his tracks, grin dropping. Beck didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “Sounds to me like you’re the fragged one here.”

Cyrus stared at him for a moment, as if seeing Beck for the first time. Beck just stared back, core spinning faster and faster. He knew everything he was saying was mostly bravado. Even Tron hadn’t been able to defeat Cyrus, so what chance did he have? Probably none at all. Not if he couldn’t somehow lose Cyrus and then go find Tron. Together. Together they could take him!

So long as Tron wasn’t derezzed or worse. Unbidden, Dyson’s words replayed in his memory. _"Or the repurposing could have already taken hold. He could already be on his way to Clu.”_

It couldn’t be true. Could it? No. No, it wasn’t true. Cyrus was a very sneaky program—Tron had probably just missed him! Grid, he hoped so.

He certainly wasn’t going to miss this, Beck had the fleeting thought as Cyrus charged with a yell, not bothering to bring out his disk as he hit Beck with all the force he could muster. They went down again, rolling and tumbling down the road. Beck’s disk dropped with a clatter and went dark, useless behind them as they grappled. It was obvious that Cyrus was more experienced at this; though Beck managed to land a hit, sending a few stray cubes flying to the road from hitting Cyrus’ nose, Cyrus gave twice as good as he got and grabbed Beck by the hair, slamming his head to the road. Everything whited out for a moment as his systems were forcibly reset, audio receptors ringing as he blinked away remnants, Cyrus laughing on top of him.

“He didn’t even train you!” He was saying, eyes wild and flashing, “And he had the nerve to call me his only failure!” 

He. Tron. Tron had said that. Beck grit his teeth.

“He was right,” He grit through the pain, interrupting Cyrus’ laughter. “You’re the one he was never proud of!” Gathering his strength Beck lashed out, an open palm strike to Cyrus’ chin knocking him back before another kick to his middle sent him reeling back. Beck struggled to his feet, balance not yet restored, but his determined glare remained. “You failed him! You’re the one who let him down, and you’re the one who just can’t let it go!”

Cyrus yelled in rage and came at him again. They traded blows, circuit flickering impacts that left limbs numb and useless as power distribution reset itself. Teeth rattling blows, forehead to forehead impacts that sent lights flickering across Beck’s vision even as Cyrus stumbled back. But no matter how much they hit each other, neither would go down.

They were at an impasse. Except, Beck realized as he gasped for air after Cyrus finally kicked him back, they weren’t. Cyrus was just toying with him. Despite his yells, despite his obvious anger, Cyrus was barely hurt. Beck, still drained from the prior milli’s events, was flagging. He had to end this somehow, but how? His eyes flickered to his disk, dark against the road, and then back to Cyrus. The rogue program stared back at him, a smear of blue across his cheek from where Beck had punched him hard. It did nothing to stop him from grinning.

“Well,” He coughed on a laugh. “This has been fun, but I didn’t come here to tussle with you. You and I have a date to keep.” He stepped forward, shoulders limber. “And we really shouldn’t be late.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Beck hissed, eyes flicking back to his disk. If he could just get it—

“You think you have a choice.” Cyrus’ smile was all teeth. Before Beck could react, he rushed forward, grabbing Beck by the throat and slamming him into the wall nearby. It cracked, a sound loud enough to be heard over Beck’s mixed gasp of pain and surprise as he impacted port first. The immediate warning blanked out half his vision, the rest full of Cyrus’ face as the marked program leaned in, ignoring Beck clawing and scratching at his arm.

“That’s cute.”

A second warning flared across Beck’s systems: overheat from lack of intake. He clawed blindly at Cyrus’ arm, feeling his systems begin to shut down in response to the lack of airflow, but it was like trying to carve through a steel beam with nothing more than a blunt wrench. It just wasn’t working, and in his final moment of clarity, Beck realized something: If he let Cyrus take him, there was no telling where he'd end up, or if he'd even survive.

He couldn’t let that happen.

With a desperate thought for any Users that were listening, for any help he could get, Beck slammed his foot directly into Cyrus’ gut. The marked program ‘whoof’ed at the sudden hit to his airflow system, frame instinctively curling around the damaged parts to protect them. Without any fanfare, he dropped Beck to the ground as he stumbled back. Beck dropped to his hands and knees, coughing as he sucked in as much air as he could get. Systems rebooting, he struggled to his feet, scrambling to his disk. With a stumble that became a roll, Beck palmed it and kicked it on just as Cyrus recovered, a hand on his middle as he strode forward.

"You know," Cyrus said quietly, "I almost admire your stubbornness." He strode forward as Beck looked up, face oddly calm. "You remind me of myself."

"I'm nothing like you." Beck levered himself to stand up, patches aching once more. “This ends here, Cyrus. No more games.”

Cyrus took a breath. “No, you see…” He kicked on his disk, the white-rimmed code now edged in a toxic, viral yellow. Beck swallowed hard, “The fun’s just getting started.”

——

“Seriously?” Mara laughed as they walked, “ _You_ fell into an energy pool?”

A pace beside her, angular helmet back up, Tron rolled his eyes behind his visor. Ruby didn’t bother to hide her chuckle, but she had the decency to look away when he turned a look on her, and then looked back at Mara.

“Me,” he confirmed with a staticy, modulated sigh, “And it was one time.”

“Five times,” Ruby corrected with a smile, “And each time, you came out so overcharged Yori was sure you’d be running for a cycle.”

Mara threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, that sounds just like _Beck_!” She shook her head when Tron looked at her. “Grid, this was…a long time before the Occupation rolled in, but, this one time? He and Bodhi made this really stupid dare that about who could jump more energy pools in the Outlands.” She waved a hand towards the outskirts; Tron knew where she was talking about. She continued, “So they go out there, and jump around like hyped up grid-bugs, and then…” She giggled, shoulders shaking. “Beck slipped and fell in one. He pulled himself right back out, but he was so overcharged that he couldn’t go into sleep mode for almost three triples.”

Heedless of his helmet being up, Tron brought a hand up and tried to bury his face in his palm. _Betas_. Of course Beck would do a thing like that.

Users, he was too much like Tron for his own good. Mara kept laughing for a moment, then shook her head. She opened her mouth, but Tron’s attention was drawn by the buzzing of power above them in a half-destroyed light pole. It was too loud for something that should have shut down after the bulb shattered, and yet…he narrowed his eyes, watching as sparks jumped between the remains of the filament. There was a large spark and then--

“Ouch!” 

Everyone stopped. Mara frowned.

“Zed?” She asked quietly, peering around Tron’s front. Sure enough, just down the road, Zed was shaking out his hand like he’d been shocked. In front of him, the junction box for the block was wide open, wires strewn about like loose gridbugs. Grimacing, Zed looked up.

“Hey, Mara—done already?”

“Yeah…” Mara’s frown deepened. “What happened to you?” She stepped over towards him. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to get the power back on.” Zed reached up, turning his HUD emitter back on in a flash of green light before returning his attention to the junction box. “It’s out for the whole block.”

Tron frowned. The entire _block_ was without power? He looked down the street, narrowing his eyes. With most of the streetlights out from the explosion and no programs in the area any longer, it was hard to tell, but…it was quiet. Too quiet.

Zed was right. The power was completely out. Tron turned to the young mechanic, elbow deep in wires.

“What happened?”

“I dunno,” Zed sighed, flinching back as a loose spark arced over his arm. He frowned and dove back in a moment later as he said, “It just went completely out—no lightning, no hit damage…everything in here is intact, it’s just…” He grunted, arms tensing as he managed to get a hold of something and began to tug, “There’s this—thing—in the way—!” He stumbled back with a yelp, Mara leaping forward to catch him with an arm around his back before he could fall. Both mechanics frowned now, and without a word Mara activated her HUD and work-protection before diving in alongside Zed. Tron watched, Ruby stepping up beside him as both programs dug their hands in deep. They were squashed in shoulder to shoulder but between the two of them managed to pull hard enough to dislodge whatever was inside the box and step back with it held between them.

Tron’s eyes went wide. Ruby audibly gasped.

“That’s a power siphon!” She exclaimed, staring at the grid bug shaped device with equally wide eyes. Built from a sphere, there were four prongs extending from the main body, meant to dig into a junction box or power conduit, while the main body itself had a large needle like protrusion from its base meant to absorb the energy current. They had, in the past, been used to darken a district without having to wait for an Admin or actively damage power conduits, and would harmlessly disconnect when no longer needed.

This one was different. Not only was it larger, but the sphere was transparent, and full of glowing energy. But the blue glow of the current couldn’t mask the red code of a countdown timer, still counting down even as Zed and Mara held it. Both mechanics stared with wide eyes, watching as the timer ticked down. Tron lunged forward, intent on grabbing it from their hands and throwing it far, far away, but Mara reacted first. With a shriek, she pulled it from Zed’s grasp and tossed it up, straight into the airspace above them. Tron, unable to stop his momentum, crashed into the pair and knocked them to the ground, covering them with his own body as the modified siphon went off like the bomb it was.

Compared to the energy fires and explosions that had rattled Argon City herself when Tesler’s ship had finally gone up, this was nothing. It was still enough that Mara and Zed both cried out, instinctively covering their faces. Tron could feel the heat of the blast across his port, bits of flaming energy raining down around them in a shower of fire. But it was short lived, and the last bits of code tinkled to the ground. Tron leaned back on his heels, staring at the junction box as Zed and Mara sat up. Zed was heaving, nearly hyperventilating to keep his core from overloading, lines overcharge bright.

“What was that?!” He shouted, eyes wide, “Who would—” He looked up at Tron, “Would Clu have—”

“No,” Ruby said as she stood up from the defensive crouch she’d fallen into, “Clu wouldn’t risk damaging the city. Not like this, at least,” She frowned, tilting her head. “But I don’t know who would have done this. And on just our block?”

There was only one program Tron knew who would have had the knowledge and desire to do such a thing. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Cyrus.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Mara stiffen. She rose to her knees.

“Cyrus—wait! Tron!”

He paid no attention to her calling out to him, already running back around the corner and down the street. His boots pounded the pavement, and he prayed to any User—Flynn, or Alan-One, or Lora-B, or Flynn’s partner—that he was wrong. That this was just coincidence, that he wouldn’t be turning in to the building to find a massacre or worse.

Somehow, the sinking feeling in his core told him otherwise.

—  
In the distance, something exploded. Beck chanced a look up, only to take a boot to the torso and lose his balance. With an unceremonious thud and a yelp of pain, Beck tumbled backwards over his port, straight into the side of a nearby dumpster. Ahead of him, standing with his arms casually at his side, Cyrus laughed.

“Oh, that’s funny,” He chuckled to himself as Beck groaned, trying to get back to his feet, “You don’t know when to quit any better than Tron!” He shook his head, marked patterns blurring with the rapid motion. “You really _are_ just like him. Figures.”

On his knees, Beck frowned.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” He asked, painfully levering himself back to his feet. He swayed, stepping back to keep his balance. Both legs were screaming at him, patches struggling to hold back the damage from extending due to overuse. If this kept up, he’d be as good as derezzed. Up ahead, Cyrus rolled his shoulders.

“Did you ever stop to think why it was you that found my prison, Beck?” Cyrus asked suddenly, modulated voice echoing through the otherwise empty street. Beck blinked, startled at the sudden change of topic. He clutched his disk hard. 

“I told you: it’s because I got lost.”

“No,” Cyrus chuckled, “No, see, it’s something more than that. Something I didn’t know until Clu found me.” Slowly, he began to pace back and forth. Beck didn’t turn away, watching him with narrowed eyes. What was he getting at? _Clu_ had gotten to him? Grid, no wonder he was even more unstable than before. Still, he continued to speak. “You and me? We were designed as two parts of the same code, the same bundle. You were designed to maintain, and I was designed to protect. Coinciding directives.”

Beck’s core froze, lurched, restarted. His voice wavered. “How does that—” He coughed “—How does that explain my finding you?”

Cyrus turned to him. “It’s simple, really. We’ve each got a little piece of each other’s code; it draws us to one another, like beacons.” He laughed again, quieter this time. Almost sad. “Or did you really think some null-unit mechanic from the middle of nowhere could _really_ go on to be the next Tron?”

No. He didn’t think that. Tron could say he’d surpassed his programming all he wanted, but at the end of the milli, Beck wasn’t a fighter. Sure, he knew how and could defend himself, but…he wasn’t Tron. He wasn’t even _Cutler_. He was just Beck. Mechanic to the bitter end. Even if that end would be his deresolution at Cyrus’ disk. Two halves of the same code….built from the same source? Clenching his fists at his sides until the edge of his disk bit into his palm, Beck narrowed his eyes.

“That’s how you built everything—your prison, too. You know how to fix code. Change it.”

“Repurpose it,” Cyrus corrected, waving a hand as Beck flinched. If he never heard that word again, it would be too soon. “You’re finally starting to get it, Beck. Just like you always should have.” Cyrus sighed, suddenly sounding tired. “We’re still of one mind, the same source code. We were _supposed_ to work together. And we still can.”

The thought was so shocking that Beck nearly stumbled even as he stood still. Work with _Cyrus_? The program that had gotten Able derezzed? That had nearly derezzed Mara and Zed? No. No way. His circuits flared bright white. “To what, destroy the Grid?” He shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”

“You still think you have a choice.” Cyrus scoffed, stopping his motion and turning to Beck. “It’s not cute anymore.”

He shoved off on one foot and then he was on Beck once again. Their disks clashed with a wash of sparks, the viral yellow edge of Cyrus’ disk biting into the cool blue tones of Beck’s. Beck grit his teeth, pushing back with every ounce of strength he had left, but Cyrus was still stronger. He pushed back, hard enough that they both slipped on the rain-slick ground.

“You think you earned this!” Cyrus dropped his disk, ducking Beck’s swing and punching him right in the center of the emblem that was still emblazoned on his blacks. Beck cried out breathlessly, stumbling back, patch aching as Cyrus followed him. “All you did was steal it from someone better! You don’t—” He shifted his weight, coming up on one foot and lashing out with the other, kicking Beck in the side and sending him tumbling across the alley, “You don’t deserve it!”

Beck coughed as he rolled to a stop, grabbing up his disk from where it had fallen from his fingers, “I’m not the one who was locked away, Cyrus!”

“No,” Cyrus admitted, “But you’re the one who’s going to derezz!” He charged forward, disk in hand—only to skid to a rapid halt and leap backwards as a glowing white disk nearly severed his nose from his head. 

“The only one going to derezz here,” Tron said as he strode down a side alleyway, coming to a stop in front of Beck, “Is you.”

Core lurching, Beck heaved a sigh of relief. Not only was Tron _here_ , but he appeared to be unharmed, and in complete control of himself. Beck slowly began to stand up, disk in hand, as Cyrus snarled and stepped forward.

“How many times are you going to save this useless glitch!?” He shouted, snapping a hand out at Beck. Tron raised his arm, as if to shield Beck from sight. Cyrus didn’t care. “He just keeps failing you, and you—”

“I told you before,” Tron’s frown was audible as he cut Cyrus off, head inclined, visor catching the light of his disk, “ _You_ are my only failure, Cyrus.”

Cyrus’ eyes widened. Beck stepped back as, with a shout loud enough to make anyone’s audio input ring, Cyrus charged right at Tron, disk revving and circuits overload bright as he screamed. Tron met him blow for blow, almost calm about the whole thing. He deflected each wild blow, sidestepping Cyrus’ wild charge and ducking under wide swings. He lashed out with open palm strikes, knocking the rogue program back, further and further away from Beck with each passing nano. He was, Beck realized, completely in his element. _This_ was what Tron had been programmed to do: Protect the Grid and all her programs from any threat. It was an awesome feat to watch, but also a frightening one.

If Tron was ever repurposed, Beck realized, no one would be able to stop him. He’d be the worst threat they could ever face.

He was definitely Cyrus’ worst foe. As Cyrus lashed out, Tron reached out and grabbed him by the arm, twisting him around and tossing him straight across the alleyway, into a dumpster. He stepped forward to pursue, but Cyrus rolled to his feet and tossed his disk in a wild arc. Tron leapt back, flipping in mid-air to avoid the blaze of light, and Beck ducked with his hands over his head as Cyrus’ disk embedded itself into the wall nearby. He looked up in time to see Tron land in a smooth crouch, then stand up.

“Give it up, Cyrus,” He said firmly, “You can’t win this fight.”

Cyrus, despite no longer having his disk, stood up straight and tall. He looked at Beck, still crouched behind Tron, and then sneered.

“You have _no_ idea, do you? Just how much he’s failed you.”

Beck’s core lurched. He made to stand as Tron leaned back. Cyrus held his ground, pointing at Beck over Tron’s shoulder.

“He hasn’t lived up to the legacy he’s carrying _once_. All he’s ever done is let you down, time and time again! I never would have—”

Beck stepped forward, right into the bar that was Tron’s suddenly outstretched arm. “You were going to blow up the Grid!” Beck yelled, not struggling against Tron, “How many programs are derezzed because of you?! I am _nothing_ like you!”

Cyrus smirked.

“Me?” He put a hand to his chest. “No, Beck. You’re not. I know that now. But see…” He tilted his head. “I meant it when I said we share source code, you and me. We sprang from the same source, the same program we took to like energy from a pool."

Beck’s core lurched. He couldn’t mean--

“We’re from the same _source_ ,” Cyrus pressed both hands to his chest, the blocky-”T” on his arms warped from the odd angle. He did mean it. “You!” He lifted a hand to point it at Tron. “We were pulled together from your code! You're a part of us!" 

Beck felt Tron stiffen, but before he could so much as look at his mentor, Tron inclined his head.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

Cyrus dropped his hands, blinking. For a nano, he said nothing. Beck looked between him and Tron, but Tron’s face was hidden by his polarized visor. He couldn’t read that aged face. Core lurching again, Beck turned his attention back to Cyrus. Cyrus was staring at Tron as if the Grid had fallen away from his feet. 

Then he snarled. With a wordless cry he bent his weight, moved to charge forward, only--

“Hey! Malware!” Mara’s voice broke in from down the road. Everyone turned, just in time to catch Cyrus taking a sphere of glimmering code to the face. It shattered on impact and he stumbled back with a grunt as lines of bright color worked their way across his skin and suit, the lines of Mara’s graphical “Tron Lives” code rendering across his entire frame. Behind Mara, Zed’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he stared. Cyrus scrubbed his arms, trying to peel the code off of his body. When it wouldn’t give, he glared up at Mara.

“What did you do?!”

Mara sneered at him, her smile anything but kind. “It’s free code, _buddy_. Really goes with your chaotic style.” She tossed hair from her eyes, disk glowing against her hip. “Though not much is going to save that face.”

Not much would ever save that face, Beck thought to himself in the spare nano before Cyrus snarled again and charged at Mara. She yelped, throwing herself aside, and this time Beck joined the charge right at Cyrus before he could swing back around and attack Mara again. Caught flatfoot, he took a double hit across the face from both Tron and Beck’s bare fists. He stumbled, right over Zed’s foot, and knocked both Zed and himself to the ground. Before Zed could recover, Cyrus was on him, grabbing him with an arm around his neck. Zed cried out, shouted for Cyrus to let him go, but the glitching program didn’t listen. Beck grit his teeth.

“Let him go, Cyrus!” He shouted, “It’s me you want!”

“Not anymore!” Uncaring that he was leaving his disk behind, Cyrus kept backing up, dragging a struggling Zed with him. “You’re going to suffer the way I suffered! You’re going to be alone if it’s the last thing I do—”

He stopped mid-sentence, words becoming a scream of pain as a blue-edged disk carved through his shoulder from behind. Running on base programming alone, he dropped Zed and clutched at the stump as his arm fell away and shattered against the alleyway. Beck followed the disk, staring with wide eyes as Mara caught it in one hand and stepped forward, a shade too desaturated for her normal runtime but face firm.

“You won’t get the chance,” She said coldly, “We’ll stop you first.”

Cyrus stepped back. He looked from Mara to Tron, from Tron to Beck, then back again. His lips curled upwards in a snarl and then suddenly—he charged forward, right at Beck. With a yelp, Beck dropped flat fast as he could, but rather than tackle or try to grab him, Cyrus leapt over Beck’s suddenly prone form, heading for where his disk had been caught since it had gone wide over Beck’s head. Cubes scattered in his wake, voxels falling like rain from his missing arm as he reached it. He yanked his disk from the wall, and with a glare that could have frozen flaming energy, took off down the alleyway back towards the main city. Beck pushed onto his knees, hands on the ground as Mara charged after Cyrus, disk in hand. Tron reached out to her.

"Let him go!" Tron yelled. Mara skidded to a halt in the dropped cubes.

"He--"

"You're not ready to take him on--let him go!" He turned his attention to Beck, helping him upright. "Did he hurt you?"

"No--not badly." His patches ached, but he hadn't torn them. Beck shook his head, standing up with barely a grimace. “I’m fine.”

Tron didn’t seem convinced. He turned his head to look at Mara and Zed, both staring down the way that Cyrus had gone, but before he could say anything—

"Well well well." They all turned back towards the hills. In the dark of the alley, a red-lined program strode forward. Zed cursed between his teeth, and Beck could see Mara's eyes go wide as Pavel strode out of the darkness. Someone he couldn’t quite make out stood behind him, but Pavel’s smile was a sneer as he stood, hands clasped at the small of his back, and looked at the four of them like they’d just made his cycle.

"What have we here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The halfway point, that’s what have here! …or rather, we crossed that *last* week, so…barring any major complications, Liberation shall have its final chapter posted on—drumroll please— **October 7th, 2017**. It’s all uphill from here~


	9. 00111001

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Quasi-parental, definitely abusive relationship + language, combat amputation. (never have I been more glad that programs don’t operate on the laws of flesh and blood organics. Also Tesler, you’re a bastard and I am not one bit sorry for this chapter.)

“Well, well, well…” Pavel sneered, “What _do_ we have here?” He looked across the little group of programs standing in the alleyway. Behind him, Paige grimaced. Her core lurched as she caught sight of Beck and an older male-designate, who must have been _Tron_ , alongside two young programs. She recognized them, vaguely, from Able’s Garage. Mechanics.

Beck’s coworkers. Grid, part of the crew had survived the explosion. She tossed up a small thought of thanks, but then had to look over as four disks kicked on. At least they were smart enough to see Pavel for the threat he was. Still, he simply leaned back and smiled.

“Four rebellious programs. I see. And—oh.” His smile became a sneer as he recognized Beck. He turned over his shoulder to glance at Paige. “Stay back, _Commander_ Paige. I’d _hate_ for your loyalties to be questioned now.”

Beck went stiff. Paige’s core lurched again.

“Pavel—” She reached for his shoulder, core beginning to spin up desperately fast, “Remember our orders. We’re supposed to bring them in intact—”

Pavel scoffed, tossing off her shoulder as if tossing off a Gridbug. He strode forward, out of reach. “Of course I remember,” he said, reaching back for his disk and kicking it on. He sneered at the group of Renegades. “I just don’t care.”

Then, with a wordless shout, he shoved forward and at the group. Beck and his companion scattered with quick push-backs, Beck used to fighting Pavel and Tron of course used to fighting as they scrambled out of his way, but the other two—Paige flinched as the other two couldn’t get clear in time. The female-designate brought up her disk in time to catch Pavel’s against it rather than take a disk to the neck, but he had the weight, the power, the—

“Paige!” Beck shouted. She turned to look at him, taking in his smaller patches and the exhaustion in his eyes, the glowing disk in one hand, “Get out of here! Don’t let anyone see you!”

She blinked at him for half a nano, even as Tron charged forward to tackle Pavel off the mechanics, rolling black on black down the alley. Beck…didn’t want her to be seen? Didn’t want her to be—oh.

He was trying to protect her. She looked at him for a moment, weighing her options. She could go, putting her fate into the hands of these four programs, or she could stay and deal with it herself. 

Tesler had said that Purgos would handle Pavel for them. If she didn’t help him take out the four of them, if they didn’t actually defeat this motley crew, she knew he’d turn on her again. There was no time to let Purgos handle it. And she knew, deep in her core, that she couldn’t fight and capture these four. Not out of a lack of skill—together she and Pavel could _probably_ capture Tron and the other three; Beck was hardly a fighter and she doubted the other two were any better—but out of a lack of will. She couldn’t subject Beck to another round of Dyson’s care. He wouldn’t come out on the other side with his frame or his core intact. The others wouldn’t make it.

And then there was Clu. So ready and willing to derezz, not demote, her General for being unable to capture one program? Not sending back-up when all the signs pointed to it being Tron? Sending Dyson, of all programs, with the clear intent of sniffing out any of Tesler’s failures?

They had been doomed from the start, Paige realized with rising clarity. Argon itself was doomed now that Clu was aware of both Tron and Beck. The city would be quarantined until capture, formatted if neither could be caught. And if Paige didn’t side with Pavel, and he made it back to Tesler…she’d go with it.

No. She wasn’t going to be derezzed because of this. Not because of that glitching piece of malware that called himself a soldier.

The moment passed. Paige made her decision.

“No!” She shouted back at Beck, “I’m not going anywhere!”

She grabbed her disk. Beck stepped back, sure that she was going to charge at him, but instead she charged forward, shoulder-checking Pavel right off of Tron until he crashed up and into the frame of a broken window. With a cry he toppled backwards into the building, giving them a moment of reprieve.

“You two!” Beck shouted at his friends, “Get on the roof and get us some light!” They nodded, turning to run for the nearest fire escape, and Beck turned back to the window. They could all hear Pavel picking himself up from the broken glass and code inside, and Beck gave Paige a sidelong look.

“Truce?” He asked softly. Paige looked at him for a moment, taking in his patches, the soft aqua of his assignment circuits, aqua when they should have been green if he was truly a mechanic, and the hopeful look in his eyes before she sighed and looked away again as Pavel’s head popped back up into sight.

“For now,” She said quietly, watching as Pavel turned a wide-eyed look onto the three of them. “Don’t lose that arm.”

Beck smiled. 

With a wide-eyed look and wordless cry, Pavel threw himself back out the window and charged. The three programs scattered, letting his momentum carry him past, and then they were on him. He reacted to Paige first, sneering at her.

“And so the traitor shows her true colors,” He hissed, pressing his disk down so hard she had to brace her wrist with her other hand, “How fitting.” He looked her up and down. “A medic to the bitter end.”

“What—” She didn’t have time to finish. He kicked her right in the middle, forcing the air out of her system and making her stumble back. Before he could pursue, Tron was there to meet his swing and push him back with almost graceful swings. But there was real power behind them, Paige saw as she struggled to restart her intake system, power that had marked Tron as the Grid’s Protector long before she had been rezzed onto the system.

In that instant, she was glad she’d made the choice she did. There was no way she and Pavel could have taken him. Tron sidestepped around a wild swing, then grabbed Pavel by the arm and threw him, straight into a nearby dumpster. The lid slammed shut, and Paige almost laughed.

But then Pavel started carving his way out in a shower of sparks. She stepped back.

“Paige!” Beck called from nearly across the alley, “Does he still have that upgrade disk!”

“No!” She called back, slipping into a defensive stance as a crevice began to appear in the dumpster. What she’d give for a grenade! “He gave it to Tesler!”

“That thing self-replicates!” Tron called to them both, waiting, waiting for a chance to jump Pavel and finish him off. “He still has a copy on him!”

“Or he’s just fragged!” The male-designate mechanic shouted from the rooftop. “Is that an option?!”

“Lights, Zed! Less talk, more work!” His female-designate companion shouted as well. Paige chanced a look up, seeing the two of them elbow deep in power conduit wires, and then she stopped. There, just over the building they were working on, was hanging construction scaffolding. Whoever had been working here had probably been assigned the task of fixing the sign on the building, but now—she whistled sharply to get their attention, then pointed at it.

“When I say so, bring that down!”

“We don’t take orders from you—”

“Mara!” Beck broke in, “Just do what she says! We don’t have time to argue!”

No, they didn’t. Paige looked back at the dumpster, Pavel now kicking at his makeshift doorway. It broke under the strain and he rolled out with the clatter and clink of used energy receptacles, coming up with a harsh cackle. The three on the ground scattered, but before Tron could get in again, Paige was there to meet Pavel’s disk once more. He sneered at her again, eyes glowing a harsh orange.

“Oh,” He breathed, “I’m going to _enjoy_ derezzing you. Poor, poor, General Tesler.” He laughed, a chuckle so close to viral that it stuck in her inputs, “He trusted you, and look where that’s gotten him.” He leaned in, so close they were almost nose to nose. She could hear footsteps coming closer, probably Beck or Tron, but this wasn’t their fight.

This was her fight to finish. She grit her teeth and glared.

“It’s gotten him a lot better than you!”

Quick as she could, Paige dropped her disk and leaned back. Pavel overbalanced before he could catch himself, and she lunged out with a kick to his midsection that sent him stumbling, right under the scaffolding.

“Now!” She and Beck called out in unison. With a rev of disks and a snap of metal cables, the scaffolding came down in a crash of metal. Paige shielded her face from the code dust that followed, but as it began to clear, Paige sighed. She doubted that would derezz Pavel, but…well, if nothing else, it would probably knock him out. She’d deal with him after that herself.

“Paige,” Beck said quietly. She turned to look at him, silent but for the sound of their intakes. His eyes softened, his disk dimming as it slowly went quiet in his hand. Beck opened his mouth—

And then snapped it shut as, like a demented project gone wrong, Pavel popped back out of the rubble with a shout of rage. Paige retook her stance, only to stop and stare with wide eyes.

There was a metal bar stuck through Pavel’s port, clean through his back and out of his chest. Already, she could see the geometric lines of injury deepening around it.

He was going to derezz. Even if she’d wanted to, even if she rushed to him now, port injuries were always fatal. There was nothing she could do.

“Pavel!” She shouted, but could do nothing but watch as the line of his injury crawled across his port and across his front, bisecting him beneath his arms. He stared down at the wound for a moment, then looked up to give Paige a look that could only be called unhinged.

“It doesn’t matter,” Pavel laughed, choking on his own words as the deresolution crawled through his frame. “Tesler’s going to know, which means Clu’s going to know.” He smirked, that horrid laugh still coloring his words. “You’re all as good as derezzed.” A few cubes fell into his hand, and he ducked his head to look at them with an oddly calm expression. “…Just like me.”

And then he was gone, entire frame collapsing in a pile of cubes. His disk clattered to land among the cubes, flaring overload bright for a nano, before going completely dark. Not even the inner circuit was lit up anymore, and they all stared at the space that had once been Pavel. Paige looked from it to Beck, both of them staring with wide eyes, before she looked up at the mechanics. Both stared back at her, Zed’s arms around Mara’s shoulders to hold her back, and their eyes were wide, renders desaturated. She looked back at Pavel’s disk, laying innocently on the ground, then looked up again. In shards of glass still stuck in a window frame, she could see her reflection. Her main circuits were still a military red, but her assignment accents were a solid green once more.

The traitor shows her true colors. Repair programs were always green.

She knew what she had to do.

“You need to go.” Paige said as she strode forward towards Pavel’s remains. “All of you need to get out of Argon _now_.”

“Paige—” Beck reached for her, but she slid away. “Come with us! You can’t go back to Tesler now—he’ll derezz you!”

“No he won’t,” She said, bending to pick up Pavel’s disk. It was still hot. She picked it up, then looked around for a sturdy piece of rubble. When she found it, she laid his disk down there. “But I can’t do anything for you four after this.” She looked up at Beck before kicking her disk back on, noticing how Tron stepped in front of Beck as if to shield him.

Good. Beck would need that. She turned her attention to Pavel’s disk. What she was about to do was treason, and yet…she took a breath, and then brought her disk down upon Pavel’s. Beck and Tron both stepped back as sparks flew everywhere as the blade of her disk sliced into what was left of Pavel. It wasn’t long before her task was complete, and his disk fell into two shards. With his disk broken, no one would be able to see his memories ever again. As she kicked her disk back off, Beck stepped forward.

“Paige,” He almost whispered, “They’ll destroy you for this.” He reached out with both hands. “You know that, right?”

She stood up. Looking at Beck, she knew his next step would be to ask her to come with him, with them, and she…she couldn’t do that. 

She stepped out of his reach.

“Leave, Beck,” She said firmly, her heel kicking back a cube that had once been Pavel. She reached down to her hip for her baton. “While you still can.”

“Paige…”

She looked away rather than meet his eyes. Instead, she met Tron’s helmeted head, seeing green on red reflected in the angular glass. He tilted his head a bit.

“And what are you going to do?” He asked her softly. Paige took a breath and began to walk past them.

“The right thing.”

———

“An eighth of a milli!” His audio input caught Ruby hissing, “An _eighth_ of a milli and a Commander is derezzed—you can’t be left alone for a nano!”

“And letting Pavel get back to Tesler and Clu would have been the better option?” Tron crossed his arms over his chest, “They’re all corrupt, Ruby. One way or another, they have to go.”

Beck’s core lurched and he forced himself to not look over at the two of them, instead looking around the corner, looking past Zed and Mara to the plaza nearby. A good three hundred or more red-lined soldiers, blackguard, and sentries milled about, waiting for orders or a target to pursue.

“That…is a lot of soldiers.” Zed grumbled. A pace behind his friend, Beck rolled his eyes.

“That’s a batallion, Zed,” He said quietly, crouching to get a better look. Even with the five of them, and with Mara’s free code grenades, there were far too many to fight. He looked back over his shoulder at where Tron and Ruby were now arguing quietly about which way to go to get around the blockade, but it seemed neither program had come to a feasible solution. Beck sighed and turned back. “We get in the middle of that and we’re derezzed.”

“Are you sure you’re talking about the batallion?” Mara asked in a dry tone. They all had their helmets on, but he had the feeling she was smirking anyway. He knocked his shoulder against hers for a moment, then leaned back out of sight with a sigh. They needed to reach the Harbor to get out of Argon, but with that many soldiers between them and it, the whole thing seemed impossible.

They’d gotten through worse, he reminded himself, and it wasn’t like stealth was impossible. Even so…he’d have preferred better odds. He opened his mouth to call out to Tron--

The Grid shook. Tron caught his weight on a nearby wall, but the rest of them toppled to the ground. Palms flat, Beck looked up. what had happened?

 **[Attention Programs,]** The Grid said, voice ringing out over the entire city, **[A reformat has been initiated. Please proceed to your nearest evacuation station and await further instruction. Your compliance is non-negotiable.]**

Reformat—oh, frag. Beck’s eyes went wide as, in a core-stopping moment, he could see three bytes of red light appear at the city checkpoints, spreading wide and fast to form a three sided shape all around Argon. Slowly, the walls began to move.

Screams began to echo through Argon, innocent programs now forced to run for their lives. In the streets, doors slammed open and dozens upon dozens of pairs of boots hit the ground running. Soldiers tried to maintain order, grabbing programs and shoving them down roadways towards the nearest Evacuation Center. The ground shaking beneath his feet, Beck shoved his way back up to stand. Zed was helping Mara, but he turned on Tron and Ruby.

“What is going on?!” He had to shout to be heard over the rumble and shake of the Grid, the shouting growing desperate and panicked just meters away from them. Ruby shook her head.

“Reformat! They’ve pulled the plug on Argon—we have to go now!”

“How?!” Mara yelled, clinging to Zed’s arms to stay on her feet, “Able said Reformat took less than a _sixteenth_! We’ll never make it to the Harbor from here before it’s over!”

“Not on foot!” Tron had made his way to Beck, closest to the corner of the road. One arm braced by Beck’s shoulder, keeping them both upright, he pointed across the Plaza nearby. “We take that tank! Force our way through!”

Beck turned his head, looking through the chaos. One tank would be an extremely tight fit, but…he nodded once, reaching back for his disk.

“Mara, Zed! You two stay behind us!” Trying to keep his balance, Beck shoved off the building wall, “We’ll cover you while you get it reprogrammed!”

For a nano the two shared a look, but then they returned his nod. With only a look between one another and without another word, Beck and Tron took off across the Plaza, covered by the chaos and able to cross it unnoticed. Two paces behind, Mara skid to her knees and dove under the tank, emitter glowing command-yellow as she immediately linked in with the system. Zed was a handful of nanos slower, shoulders bumping with Mara as Ruby caught up, staff in hand. She stuck out in gleaming white, but rather than stay in sight, leapt the tread of the tank and quickly landed on the other side.

They’d made it across without a fight, but some soldier was bound to look at them sooner or later. Beck turned.

“Mara, how much longer?”

“Working on it—ow!” She yelped as a spark jumped her fingers, “I’m going fast as I can!”

“Just a nano—” Zed trailed off, then laughed in triumphant joy, “Got it!”

The hatch popped open. Zed shoved his way out from the bottom, and Beck reached down with him to pull Mara out from under in a single smooth motion. Tron and Ruby had already scrambled inside the tank, and the three betas quickly followed them in. Mara slammed the hatch shut, plunging them into darkness as the screens and command prompts lit up one at a time. It was a tight fit, shoulder to shoulder and port to port, but Tron slipped into the control chair like he belonged there. The circuitry flickered from Occupation Red to the same blue-white of Tron’s circuits as the treads ground against themselves. Beside Beck, Zed grimaced.

“These things were _not_ meant to turn on a pixel—” He turned to Tron, “When’s the last time you drove one of these things?”

“Never.”

“What?!” Zed and Mara shouted in unison, then turned to Beck. He just shrugged, watching Ruby grab at the turret controls as the viewfinder lit up red with targets. Though most of the soldiers were still focused on the evacuation, some had peeled off to inspect the now blue tank. Beck drew a steadying breath, hands clenched at his sides.

“On my mark,” Tron said calmly. On Ruby’s display, the engine meter revved up from idle. One nano. Two. Three. The soldiers closed in with glowing disks and staffs in hand.

“Mark!”

Ruby opened fire. The sound was muffled by the frame of the tank, but it rattled down his teeth anyway. On her screen, three soldiers became nothing more than red-lined cubes. Beck’s core lurched, but he forced it down as Tron shot the tank forward fast as it could go. It was the soldiers or them, Beck knew, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

He just had to hold on. 

Mara grabbed onto the hatch release for balance, reaching out to snatch Zed’s hand, who in turn grabbed Beck’s. The three mechanics had just enough room to sway and knock joints against the tiny chamber’s walls as Tron turned them faster than the tank was meant to go, the gridlike streets of Argon full of soldiers and evacuating citizens. Ruby kept firing, and Beck forced himself to look away from her screen as she did so. This was the only way.

This was the _only_ way. 

Impacts shuddered down the frame of the tank as they turned to another of Argon’s open plazas, and Beck didn’t need to be in open space to know the sound that followed was a Lightjet. Ruby turned the turret, firing on their pursuer, but the shot went wide and she cursed a moment later as she couldn’t follow.

“Jammed—” She looked down at the betas, “One of you get that fixed!”

Closest to the wall, Beck turned and flung open the access panel. Sparks scattered from loosened chips and fraying wires, but for a moment he didn’t know where to start.

“When’s the last time you fixed something without Bodhi’s bypasser?” Mara hissed, shoulder checking him out of the way. When he had to take a nano to answer, she pressed her lips into a thin line and quirked a brow at him. He shrugged, then yelped as another impact rattled the tank. Tron cursed between his teeth.

“We’re taking too much fire—Ruby!”

“Working on it!” Ruby shouted back, “My targeting’s off!”

“Look!” Zed broke in, leaning over the seat to point at something in Tron’s viewscreen, “There’s the harbor!”

Tron gunned it, putting as much speed as he could into the tank’s tread. Beck steadied Mara as she worked, the yellow glow of her emitter casting odd shadows across her face. More impacts rattled the tank, and everyone cried out as two shots carved clean through the hatch, exposing them to the sky above. A moment later, the tank rocked and knocked those standing into one another before it began to slow down, listing heavily to one side.

“Oh--We just threw a tread!” Zed yelped, “but on what?!”

With a grinding noise of forced pushing Ruby swung the turret around, trying to get a clean view. Beck watched, core freezing in his chest, as sparks rained down on the split fuel barrels around the area. With a single spark, the spilled fuel bloomed into bright blue flame.

“Everyone out!” Beck shouted, shouldering past Mara and to the hatch. The shots had completely destroyed the locking mechanism, letting him throw it open and scramble into the open. The fire was spreading fast; he reached down to pull Mara and then Zed out, then leapt down as Tron and Ruby all but jumped from the hatch.

They ran.

Behind them, the tank exploded.

——

“DESTROYED?!” Tesler bellowed into the steady air of Clu’s command ship. He and General Dyson had both been there when she’d returned to the ship, and after her debrief, had both stared at her with wide eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Paige confirmed, still holding on to the shards of Pavel’s broken disk. “Fighting Tron and Beck both was more…difficult than we’d expected,” She said as firmly as she could manage, not taking her eyes off of Tesler. If she looked at Dyson, she wasn’t sure she’d manage to avoid decking the smug glitch in the face. “By the time I’d subdued Beck, Tron had already done this—” She extended her hands to show them the shards, “To Pavel. I don’t think he _meant_ to, but…” She paused, partly for effect and partly to force down her guilt. Here she was, throwing Tron under the proverbial tank, all in an attempt to save her render.

Grid, what kind of program did that make her?’

She looked up as Tesler growled. His hands gripped tightly at one another, tight enough that she could see his repair seams. If he kept that up, she thought to herself, he’d lose them for the fourth time. Before he could crush his hands, he spun on his heel and strode to the window. She sighed quietly, watching him look out over Argon still awash with red. Pavel being gone didn’t really change anything, Paige knew. Clu and Dyson still ran this city no matter what they said to Tesler. It was their army out there, not the one that Tesler had brought. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a breath.

“There was nothing I could do. By the time I got to him, hHe was too far gone. It was a direct hit to his port, and his disk…” She looked at her hands, still able to see the remnants of soot from where sparks had hit as she’d carved it in two. She’d brushed them off as best she could, cleaned it, but her port still ached at the thought of what she’d done, however right it was. She forced herself to look up. “Well. I knew there was no repairing it. I managed to grab this and get away.”

“I see.” Dyson said suddenly. Paige looked at him, but he was already summoning one of Clu’s golden-circuit Honor Guard. The General leaned in, whispering something to the faceless program, and then the program saluted before running from the room. “Then, there’s only one thing left to do.”

“Sir?” Paige asked. Dyson closed his eyes. For a moment, as if weighing his words, he remained silent. Then he took a breath and began to speak.

“We’ve tried capture,” he said firmly, eyes on the window, “And we’ve tried bait. We’ve tried overwhelming him with numbers, and sent solo programs out as well. Quite frankly,” He looked back to her, “It’s time that we started treating Tron less like a rogue asset, and more like the viral infection that he is. You were a medic once, weren’t you?”

“Yes, sir…” She knew where this was going. But he couldn’t really mean— “But, sir, viral containment usually ended with the program losing their affected limb. You can’t do that to a city, not to capture a program.” She frowned deeply. “Is that _really_ the only way?”

Dyson opened his mouth--

“Could one of you _please_ explain what you mean?” Tesler broke in suddenly, causing them both to look at him. With a heaving sigh, Dyson shook his head.

“When a virus is free in any code, General, be it a program or the Grid itself” Dyson began after a moment of silence, as if weighing his words, “It has to be contained and completely scrubbed from existence.” He laced his fingers together, pulling his palms apart to form a makeshift barrier. “However, given the size of Argon and the numerous places a program could hide down there, containment isn’t a feasible option.” He slammed his palms back together with a ringing clap, and Paige flinched back. He looked up at her again. “Which leaves the only option to be a total sterilization of Argon and her citizens, effective immediately.”

Paige drew back. He did mean it. Oh, Grid…

By the window, Tesler drew in a hissing breath.

“Total sterilization?” He knew what that meant, at least, and needed only minor clarification. “Is that really necessary?”

Dyson shrugged. “The only other outcome is to keep throwing soldiers at him, but we’ve seen how well that gets them derezzed, so I suppose if that’s what you’re after…” He trailed off, raising one eyebrow. Tesler growled quietly, turning to look out the window as the Grid shook beneath their feet. Paige looked down, alarmed.

 **[Attention Programs,]** The Grid said, voice ringing out over the entire city, **[A reformat has been initiated. Please proceed to your nearest evacuation station and await further instruction. Your compliance is non-negotiable.]**

Reformat? Paige’s core stopped cold for a moment, the words sinking in. The world seemed to shrink down to the ground beneath her feet, hands clenching at her sides. Reformat. The absolute erasure of everything within a given area, right down to the base stone and sea code of the Grid herself. All buildings, machines, cargo. Everything would be deleted as if it had never existed, and any programs caught in its way…they’d meet the same fate.

Forcing herself to take a steadying breath, Paige gave her core a proverbial kick and looked up as, outside, three walls of red light appeared and began a slow and steady crawl towards Argon from the Outlands. East, West, and South. They’d be slow at first, she knew, in order to give programs time to reach their evacuation points and be flown from the city, but already they had formed a cage around Argon. There would be no leaving through them.

“And if this doesn’t work? If he escapes somehow?” Tesler asked suddenly, voice barely more than a hiss. Dyson shrugged.

“Then we do it again, in whatever city he flees to.” He stepped up beside Tesler, hands loosely clasped at the base of his spine. “And again, and again, and again, until it finally works and he has no more allies, no more places to hide, and finally gives in.”

Tesler didn’t say a word to that. He looked at Dyson, then at Paige. For a moment, the two shared a look; this was more than just frustration boiling over. This was personal. Slowly, mindful of where Dyson stood, Paige made her way to the window. Already she could see Argon’s citizens being herded by hundreds of soldiers towards the main hubs, being forced to leave their homes, their livelihoods, everything they’d ever known. Her grip tightened on the remnants of Pavel’s disk, the edges pressing into her palms. 

“It’s like Gallium all over again…” Paige whispered to herself. Beside her, Dyson snorted.

“More so than you realize, Commander.” She turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes on the city below and said, “Of course, back then, it wasn’t the Isos that were the root cause of the reformat.” He sighed, almost sounding put out by the whole thing. Beside him, Tesler stiffened and looked at him. He continued, “It’s ironic, really. Pavel should be lauded as a hero for forcing us to save so many programs this way, but his commanding officer…” He shook his head. 

The pieces weren’t falling into place. Paige’s vocals locked up, straining to get her words out. “…what’re you talking about?” She asked softly. Above Dyson’s head, Tesler turned on her.

“Oh, he never told you?” Dyson tutted, looking over his shoulder at Tesler. “It wasn’t ISOs who derezzed every program in the medical center, Commander.”

Paige stared, wide eyed. He couldn’t mean—

“It was General Tesler.”

“What?” Paige breathed, hands suddenly trembling. Dyson looked at her, head tilted.

“He really never told you?” Dyson sighed, shaking his head. Behind him, Tesler’s fists were glowing. Paige’s eyes slowly widened, her core spinning up faster and faster. Dyson couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying, could he? General Tesler had been the one to derezz Rox and Fry? Why would he…? Her confusion must have shown, because Dyson signed again and, either ignorant or uncaring of the danger growing behind him, he looked back out the window.

“By all accounts, the Iso infestation in Gallium was actually quite small—just two of them. All it would have taken to be sure was a small sweep through the city, a curfew to ensure they’d have no help, and maybe a few detainments.” He shook his head. “Certainly not the mess in your medical center.”

Paige looked at him, eyes wide. He knew about that? No—of course he knew. Tesler would have had to report it. He’d have no reason to leave anything out. Dyson clasped his hands behind his back, the very picture of casual. 

“Of course, by the time we got that bit of news, the damage was already done. Fifty programs completely erased, including five medics…” He shook his head, looking at Paige. “Why else did you think Tesler was assigned to this backwater burg, hm? It certainly wasn’t a reward.” He looked over his shoulder at Tesler, heedless of the snarl growing on Tesler’s face. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “It seems his incompetence knows no bounds. First the Renegade and now this?” He snorted. “It’ll be a wonder if Clu doesn’t have you thrown in the games.”

If he said anything else, Paige didn’t hear it. The pieces were slotting into place, sinking into her core like cold sea water. She hadn’t wanted to report Quorra and her friend, had been upset but still mostly content to just let them leave so long as they never came back. Rox had likely reported them herself and then…no. The thought settled heavily in her processor, but there was no other way around it. Rox and Fry were gone because they’d run into Tesler. If she’d been with them, if she’d reported Quorra and her friend…oh, Grid.

Paige stumbled back, dropping the broken parts of Pavel’s disk. They clattered loudly, the sound like a crack of thunder as the ship rattled beneath her feet. She looked at Tesler, looming over Dyson like a viral ready to pounce.

“It was you,” She breathed, images of the destruction she’d woken to flashing across her visuals. So much destruction, so many programs derezzed. For so long, she’d thought it was Quorra, strong and fast and used to fighting, that had erased not only Paige’s oldest friends but every patient in the medical center, causing a complete massacre. Even with all that had happened afterward, she hadn’t been willing to consider another option. But now…she stopped herself from taking another step back, forcing herself to hold her ground. “It was you!”

“I did what was necessary, Paige.” Tesler replied, the growl beneath his words that had once been comforting now a clear threat. “For the good of the Grid.” 

Dyson scoffed. “For the good of the Grid, he says.” He rolled his eyes, stepping out from between them. “Your idea of “good” cost us two medics, Tesler, not to mention another forty-eight able bodied programs.” He looked between them then, as if contemplating something. “Quite frankly, I’m still just amazed you didn’t finish the job. Did you not think it was necessary?” He gestured at Paige with one hand, no doubt able to see her trembling as the fear began to be replaced by sheer anger. “Did you really not think she’d find out?”

Before Tesler could reply, Paige bared her teeth. “You lied to me!” She yelled, voice bouncing off the walls as she clenched her fists at her sides. Tesler sneered down at her, Dyson no longer in her line of sight. She couldn’t bring herself to care, too many memories on replay as she violently grabbed at her disk, all but ripping it from her port. Tesler’s eyes widened and, logically, she knew this was a mistake.

She couldn’t bring herself to care.

She ran at him—charged at him—with a yell full of grief and rage. Not just for Rox and Fry, but for Argon, for all of Argon’s programs that had suffered under Tesler’s iron rule. He stepped back, stepped away from her wild swing, cape derezzing into his shoulders.

“Paige,” he said firmly, that threatening growl still overlaying his words. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you really think you can take me down?” He narrowed his eyes, stepping aside as she charged wildly once more, skidding around to kick out his legs. He grunted as he hit the deck, and as he rolled back around he turned to glare at her. She glared right back, standing tall.

“I think I’m about to.”

Where Dyson had ended up, she couldn’t bring herself to care. So long as he didn’t get involved, she’d face the consequences later. She charged, only to have to skid to a halt as his hands began to glow, seam-marks of fresh reinstall the only difference between new code and old.

She flipped, leaping backwards over his glowing hand as he thrust them both at her. The heat of it scorched her lower back even as she cleared it, hearing the clang of impact as he hit the wall instead of her. With a snarl she threw her disk, forcing him to duck and buying herself precious nanos to charge in. She leapt to catch her disk, lashing out, forcing him back. For all the time she’d known him, Tesler never fought with his disk. He always fought with his hands, the combat mod giving him an edge against opponents used to never having to get in close.

It was, she realized, how Beck had always taken him out. Force him in to close range, destroy his hands, and then…finish the job.

With a snarl she skid under his next attack, bringing her disk up as she went. Sparks flew, Tesler bellowed in mixed rage and pain as she carved a massive gash lengthwise down his arm, and the glow went dark as his arm retracted and went limp. They may have made him stronger than most programs, but his arms were a massive weakness in their own right. With one out of the fight, she was free to get closer and closer and then—

Then something grabbed her around the middle, hot enough to burn, hot enough that she _screamed_ as it threw her to the wall, sending her crashing into it port first.

Oh. Right. His other arm.

Arm wrapped around her middle, Paige tried to get to her feet. Warnings flared, blocking her vision before she dismissed them, but by the time she’d cleared it again he was on her. The heat and glow of his arm was gone now, but he didn’t need it to hold her to the ground, hand around her neck. She cried out with the last of her arm as he brought all of his weight down on her, eyes narrowed to slits.

“I knew I should have derezzed you the moment I saw you. I knew you’d always be a problem.”

Unable to answer for his fingers around her throat, Paige choked. She clawed at his arm with both hands, disk clattering to the ground beside her in an instinctive reaction to _get him off_ of her before her system overheated. It was already starting, visuals of his sneering snarl graying out because he just wouldn’t let up! Would he be the last thing she saw, she wondered with an odd clarity. 

Her strength flagging, one hand fell back. Her fingers fell onto something, closing around it—

Pavel’s broken disk.

He was going to save her.

With the last of her power, Paige drove the shard of disk right into Tesler’s eye. He bellowed in pain, hand coming up to his face, his weight falling back off of her as he reared back. Gasping for air and coughing so hard she kept none of it, Paige scrambled back and away, palming up her disk as she struggled to her feet. Still on his knees, Tesler glared at her as she retook her stance.

"I spared you! You owe me your disk!"

"That doesn't," Paige spat, "give you the right to take it away!"

She had to end this. Now.

Without letting herself think about it, she threw her disk. He tried to throw himself away, tried to get clear, but he was too slow. It carved a hole right through his middle, a gaping wound that she could see clear through to the other wall through.

It was fatal.

He glared up at her, panting. Cubes fell from the wound she had inflicted upon him, his inevitable deresolution approaching quickly. For a nano, she contemplated going to him, healing his injuries. They needed every able bodied fighter they could get and Tesler was a General. 

But then she thought better of it. Tesler had either been behind or had ignored all of Argon’s problems. He’d let Pavel run amuck for cycles, causing all the ongoing destruction in the end. Despite her unending loyalty, he’d been willing to sacrifice her as if she was worth nothing to him. He’d fought to derez, not detain. 

He would have derezzed her if she hadn’t done it to him first. She met his gaze head on, holding her breath and holding her head up high, shoulders back. He glared at her, but could say nothing as his port was consumed by the fractal patterns of deresolution. Without a hint of fanfare, Tesler collapsed into a pile of red-edged cubes, disk clattering to the ground among them.

Paige finally let out the breath she was holding, struggling to get enough air to cool her overworked processor. It was over. She’d been the victor. She’d survived. So why did it feel so hollow a victory? Looking at the cubes that had been Tesler, Paige gasped for breath. Everything hurt, from her head to her boots, but she was alive. She was the victor. The afterimage of Tesler's final sneer was burned into her visuals, the fear and hate in his eyes stuck in her core like a bad read. She swallowed hard. It had been her or him, she knew that. He’d attacked her first, derezzed her only friends so very long ago, and yet…

Somehow, she missed him already. Paige closed her eyes, listening as Dyson’s bootsteps echoed in the suddenly too big chamber. When she opened her eyes again, she caught sight of her reflection in the window. Her lines were slowly shifting from red to green. She turned to look at Dyson, and in his eyes found all the answer she needed.

"Consider this my resignation."

Before he could stop her, she ran for the window. Glass shattered as she leapt through, arms up to shield her face, and in that moment she made her final call.

Every one of her circuits, even those hidden behind burn damage, once again glowed a steady medic green.

She had to find Beck.

With a crack of her baton, she rezzed a lightjet and took off towards the harbor, leaving Clu and all he stood for behind.

——

“Tron! Tron, get up!”

Beck. Frightened, desperate--

Awareness returned in a blaze of blue light, energy fire sending cascading heat warnings down Tron’s system. He dismissed them, feeling Beck’s hands around one of his wrists before he saw the young program trying to haul him to his feet. Before his balance systems had even kicked back on Tron levered himself up. Minor burns and gashes dotted his frame and Beck’s, but both were intact. It was enough that he shook his head to clear it, dragging in a breath of hot air. What had happened—

Oh, right. The tank had exploded.

“The others?”

Beck was already moving, heading back towards what had once been a stack of shipping containers. Now, they were little more than scorched slabs of code.

“Mara’s fine but Ruby’s missing, and Zed’s trapped under something—I need your help!” Beck called back over his shoulder, almost too fast to process. Tron shook himself again, looking around. Back the way they came was a towering energy fire, feeding on the remains of the tank and what had to have been at least five barrels of raw energy. There would be no going back through there, and already the fire was eating at the code of the shipping containers around it, toppling them and their cargo with gigantic crashes, adding their fuel to the growing flames.

It wouldn’t be long before the entire harbor was engulfed in flames. If that happened and they were still here, then…

Tron growled, taking off after Beck. He ducked under loose rubble, following in Beck’s footsteps to where Mara was crouched near a slab of broken container code, Zed’s head between her knees. She looked up at them with wide eyes.

“Ruby’s—”

“She’s gone, Mara,” Beck called, dropping to his knees and grabbing the slab with both hands. When Mara just stared at him, he looked at her and said, “Mara, come on! We need to lift this!”

Despite the fear in her eyes, Mara shifted her position, grabbed the code in both hands, and tried to lift. Tron bent on Beck’s other side, and the three of them heaved upwards, trying to lift the slab, but it wouldn’t budge. It was just too heavy. Tron grit his teeth, kept trying, but it was just _too_ heavy and they had to set it down. Zed choked off a whimper, then swallowed heavily and looked up at them from his prone position.

“You guys need to—” Zed choked on a whimper, even as they kept trying to lift it off, “You need to go!”

“We’re not leaving you!” Beck and Mara shouted at him in unison, only to flinch as another fuel barrel burst into flames, the heat sending more warnings down Tron’s frame. He looked up, hissing User curses between his teeth. The flames were getting closer by the nano. They didn’t have _time_ for this! Dropping his hands from the slab he turned on his heel, searching desperately for something, anything—there! A broken piece of a crane, just out of reach of the flames. He quickly grabbed it, then returned.

“Move,” Tron snapped, Beck’s training and instinct making him scramble aside just enough for Tron to shove the framework beneath the panel as a makeshift lever and push, forcing the panel upwards. Beck rejoined the effort at his side, lifting with every byte of strength he hand, lines flaring overload bright. Between the two of them, there was just enough room for Mara to dart back in, taking Zed by one arm and begin to pull him free. For a nano it seemed to have worked, but then his motion jerked to a halt.

“Ah—stop, stop!” He cried out, both in pain and to be heard over the roaring flames eating away at everything nearby, “My foot’s stuck!”

Beck bent, ducked his head—

“The panel’s warped!” He shouted, “His foot’s caught in a dent.” He looked back up at Tron, shattered visor showing his wide, wild eyes, “We need to raise it higher!”

Another explosion went off behind them, closer this time. There wasn’t any time to waste. “No time.” Tron dropped the lever, grabbing his disk and kicking it on. In two strides he’d cleared the distance between his position and Zed’s, Mara still trying to tug him free. Behind, Beck called for him to wait, to explain himself, but then he seemed to realize what was going to happen. 

“Tron—Tron, wait!”

Tron dropped to his knees next to Zed, disk revving hot in one hand. He reached out with the other and put it on the young program’s shoulder.

“Zed,” He said calmly as he could manage despite his lurching core, “We won’t leave you, but I won’t lie to you: this isn’t going to be easy.”

Zed stared at him, at his glowing disk, then at his own leg. It registered properly a nano later and he looked back up, eyes wide but clear. He swallowed hard, circuits flickering.

“Do it.”

Tron didn’t hesitate. Before Mara could do much more than stare in confusion, he brought his glowing disk down in a single clean cut just below Zed’s knee, right above where his leg was still caught. Below his cut, the leg collapsed into cubes. 

Zed screamed. He screamed so loud and high his vocals shut off, but he was free. Without a hint of gentleness Tron pulled him away and hefted his limp form up to his one remaining foot, taking on most of his weight. Then, when Mara and Beck had gotten back to their feet, he passed their flagging friend to them to take, one of his arms across each of their shoulders. All had desaturated, Zed more than the two of them combined, but when he looked from one to the other all of them looked back with clear eyes.

“This way.”

They had to reach the water. It was their only way out.

Fast as they could, the four of them made for the docks. If they were lucky, there would be some small watercraft left. They could take one, maybe two, and get clear of the reformat. After that…after that would be after. Tron skidded around a corner as another explosion rocked the harbor, larger this time, and metal groaned all around them.

“Tron, watch out!” Mara cried out suddenly, free hand reaching towards him even as she kept her eyes upwards. He looked up, then leapt back just in time to avoid the collapse of a loading crane bearing the full weight of a container. The cables holding the container snapped and it dropped, rattling the ground so hard they all toppled with wide eyes and shouts of alarm, a wash of code dust clicking against their skin. As the dust settled, Tron’s core lurched.

“We’re trapped!” Beck said as he looked back, but the flames behind them were too tall to consider a path through. Even if they weren’t, the reformat approached from three sides to box them in, heedless of the jets and Recognizers carrying Argon’s citizens away. The only way that they had was blocked. If they’d had enough time, they could have carved their way through the container, made a path, but with the flames and walls getting closer by the nano…there was no time.

Was this how things were going to end?

Tron looked back at Beck, circuits flickering. The young program stared back at him, eyes softening as the realization struck home. He shook his head faintly, beginning to lever himself to his feet, only to stop on his knees. He cocked his head, listening, then looked straight up as a light-jet blasted past them overhead. Mara gasped.

“Is that—oh, tell me they’re on our side!”

There was no telling. Not at first, at least, but as Tron watched the light-jet come around, he had to wonder. Rather than the stark red of Occupation soldiers, the gold of Clu’s Honor Guard, or even the white-blue of a neutral program, the lines of this jet were a bright medic green. They stuck out, painting a target on the vehicle as it banked back on course, and then opened fire on the container. Tron ducked, arms over his head, but the pilot’s aim was true. Laser fire punched holes into the container, jagged edged but large enough to walk through.

Beck and Mara pulled Zed to his feet.

“Why do I get the feeling,” Zed grumbled as he hobbled between them as fast as they could all manage, “that this is nothing but a trap!?”

“Now’s not the time to be picky, Zed,” Beck retorted when Tron slipped past him to take the lead. The water was in sight now, as were the docks. Overhead, the jet was lowering to a safe jumping altitude. Tron watched with narrowed eyes as the pilot gathered themselves, then leapt down to the docks and the small watercraft waiting there. The pattern of circuits was familiar, but—that couldn’t be—programs didn’t change that quickly—

“Is that…” Mara narrowed her eyes, “Is that _Paige_?!”

Beck gasped. He looked over at the green-lined program that was just now standing from their landing crouch, didn’t look away, before his eyes widened.

“It is—that’s Paige!”

Zed groaned, only half from pain. The three mechanics picked up speed, down towards the dock, where Paige had slipped into the pilot controls for a three seater. She looked up, took in Zed’s state, then looked to Beck. Tron watched as something like hope lit up across both their faces before Paige tucked her fringe from her eyes.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got room for one more?” She asked with a soft smile. Beck huffed out a quiet laugh, but before he could reply Mara stepped forward with Zed.

“Save the flirting for when we’re not about to all derezz, please!” She called out, helping Zed into the back of the boat. Paige looked at them, then looked up, only to lean back as Tron leapt for the pilot’s seat.

“Move,” He said in a tone that brooked no argument, “I’m driving.”

She blinked at him, then yelped as Beck grabbed her by the wrists and tugged her into his lap in the passenger seat beside him. Tron dropped into the pilot’s seat, then shot them forward into the bay, sea-code steaming as the red reformat ate everything in its path. They just had to clear the sea wall!

For a three-seater holding five, the little craft still had speed to give. They bounced along the choppy waves, and Tron dared not look back as he could feel the steaming heat at their backs. Mara murmured something that may have been a prayer or a curse, and from the corner of his eye he could see Beck and Paige holding hands with a white-knuckled grip. They clung to one another, to hope, and refused to let go.

Beside them, off the craft’s starboard side, the seawall shot past and disappeared into the dim light of the Sea. Slowly, Tron eased back on the throttle. 

“We’re clear,” he sighed, though he kept them moving. “It won’t go farther than the sea wall.”

No one relaxed. Beck and Paige both turned to look back at Argon, the glow of the red walls bright even at this distance. In the back, Zed and Mara were quiet. Too quiet. Only…

“Zed?” Mara asked suddenly, voice growing high in pitch, “Zed, are you—oh, Grid, Zed!”

Beck whirled in his seat. Tron chanced a look over his shoulder, only for his core to lurch as he caught sight of Zed half collapsed against the edge of the cabin. The once clean cut to his leg was now jagged and raw, dropping cubes into the footwell as his remaining circuitry flickered with each passing nano that went by. And though Mara was shaking him, he didn’t respond.

Tron had seen this happen before.

“He’s crashing--” Paige twisted, all but leaping forward to reach with both hands, “Give me his disk!”

“What?”

“His disk, mechanic! I’m a medic—unless you want your friend to derezz, give me his disk!”

Mara jolted, then scrambled to get at Zed’s disk. With a twist and a tug she pulled it free of his port, handing it to Paige. She hung half off the seat, held steady by Beck’s arm around her waist, as she quickly flipped through Zed’s code. From the corner of his eye Tron saw dozens of red lines fly past, the damage more extensive than he’d realized, but Paige’s hands were steady. From the corner of his eye, Beck exchanged a look with Tron, but as the tinkling noise of collapsing code stopped and Mara sighed in clear relief Paige leaned back with a quiet sigh of her own.

“That’ll hold him for now,” She said, handing Mara back Zed’s disk, “But we’ll need Energy if I’m going to do anything else.”

“It’s enough,” Beck sighed, helping her to sit more normally, “Thank you.”

Paige looked down at their feet. Tron turned his attention to her, then looked up as the red glow behind them grew brighter. Mara turned to look over the back of the ship’s cabin with a sad frown.

“…I can’t believe this is happening,” She whispered. Tron eased back a little more on the throttle as Beck turned to watch the red walls came to a halt, their innermost edges joined in the middle of Argon's city center. Slowly, white light began to gather in a pillar at the meeting's core. Tron's eyes went wide.

"Everyone down!"

The others realized what was about to happen a nano later, and Mara dove with a shriek to shield Zed’s prone form with her own frame as best she could. In the seat beside him, Beck tugged at Paige until she was tucked beneath him, hands over his port. 

Behind them, with a grid-rattling boom, the pillar of light exploded in the heart of Argon city. A massive shockwave rippled out from the blast’s core, destroying anything and everything still left in its path. The harbor was vaporized in a handful of nanos, and then…

Then it hit the sea wall. Rocks collapsed into the water, sending massive waves out across the sea and causing their boat to rock violently. Tron tried to hold them steady, but it threatened to tip clean over.

Behind him, Mara screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends Arc 2, known in my notes as "Argon gonna be ArGONE".
> 
> Why yes, I'm a sarcastic little shit. :3
> 
> Reformat wall "borrowed" from Tron 2.0, though there it was called The Format, I think? With regards to Legacy/Uprising's Grid, I view it as more formatting/reformatting a single partition rather than an entire system. ...And yes, Clu has likely thought about doing that for half a second or two given how things are going. Whoops~


	10. 00110001-00110000

The Outlands were quiet, empty. For kilometers, the sharp mountains echoed with the wind, snowdrifts playing in the downcycle’s stillness. It was a stark contrast to just across the bay, where all that could be seen was the still smoking wreck of Argon’s now empty hills. Wind playing with his hair, Beck stared across the ocean. For his entire runtime, Argon had been all he’d known. It had been his home, stifling and small but home all the same. 

Now, it was gone. The lurch in his core that left him with was an achy one, a lingering sort of ache he knew wouldn’t fade with energy or a sleep cycle. It was the same ache that lingered with his memories of Able, and of Bodhi. Something that could not be replaced was gone. Even if it was restored, it wouldn’t be the same. Taking a steadying breath, Beck frowned.

“Have you seen this happen before?” He asked Tron quietly. Standing beside him, the old program shook his head.

“Not to this scale, even on the old system.” He frowned. “Something big must have happened to set Clu off into doing this. I just don’t know what.”

Beck could guess. He watched as a plume of burning energy reached high into former Argon airspace from where a refueling tower had once been, thoughts whirling a kilometer per second. The order had come only after Pavel’s deresolution, only after Paige had gone back and likely spun some kind of story to explain that. The reformat had probably been Clu’s last ditch effort to drive them out of hiding, and it had worked.

It had just taken Argon and Grid only knew how many programs with it. 

With a proverbial kick to his core, Beck turned back to the others. After their boat had been driven across the bay by the waves, they’d all managed to crawl out onto the rough Outlands stone to take stock. Zed was recovering from his near crash, sitting with his back to a boulder as Paige, her steady Medic Green circuitry covered by a large patch across her torso, coded a cap onto the stump of his leg. Mara, much like Beck and Tron, was more shaken than actually hurt. Scattered burns and gashes from their escape through the Harbor was all that remained on her frame, and she held Zed’s hand as Paige worked. Beck watched, core spinning up faster. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to even consider it, but maybe…maybe Paige had had something to do with the order. But that didn’t explain why, after saying that she could do nothing else for them, she’d come and joined them at the Harbor. There was something he was missing, and it was beginning to worry him.

Shoving the thought into his low priority queue he turned back to Tron, the old program’s eyes still on Argon, and shook his head.

“Does it matter?” He asked, clearing his throat a moment later, “It’s done. We should get moving.”

Tron glanced at him sideways. Beck swallowed hard but said nothing, and Tron sighed. Doubtlessly, Beck thought to himself, they were having similar thought processes. Sooner or later, Beck was going to have to deal with that. 

He just wanted it to be a little later, that was all.

“You’re right,” Tron said after a moment had passed, turning his back on Argon’s remains to walk back to the others. “It’s a long way to Lithium from here.”

“Lithium…” Beck frowned. “You and Ruby mentioned that before. What’s so important all the way out there?”

“According to Ruby,” Tron said, “There’s a sizable resistance in the city’s underground. It’s our best chance right now.”

Their best chance of finding allies, their best chance of survival, their best chance of somehow making all of this work. With a deep breath, Beck followed in Tron’s footsteps. The Outlands stretched for kilometers all around them, and unless they found some sort of recycling dump on the way, they’d have to go the entire way on foot. Which was just great. Glancing upwards, Beck heaved a sigh.

Could things get any worse?

“Is he mobile?” Tron asked Paige, dragging Beck from his thoughts. Paige didn’t look up from her codework, turning several strings in on themselves to make sure the cap would hold. After a moment, she shrugged.

“Sure,” She replied, “But if we don’t get him to an actual medical facility soon, he will lose what’s left of that leg.”

“How soon is soon?” Mara asked quietly.

Paige frowned a moment, pensive, then shook her head. “Within the next triple. Preferably within the next milli, but there’s no chance of that now.”

Zed groaned, burying his face in his free hand. Mara and Beck exchanged a worried glance, while Tron nodded and looked off to the horizon as Paige tweaked a few final strings.

“Lithium is a hundred kilometers north from here.” Tron said, more to himself than to them even as all four young faces turned in his direction. “If we don’t stop, we can make it before the triple is over.” He looked down at Zed. “Are you ready?”

“If I say no,” Zed groaned through the palm of his hand, “Will you leave me here to sleep?”

“No, Zed,” Mara and Beck said in unison, rising to haul their injured friend to his foot between them. He yelped, nearly tumbling onto Beck before they could steady him, one arm slung around each of their shoulders. When his head lolled towards Mara, she thunked their temples together and tightened her grip around his wrist. Tron watched the trio for a moment, then turned away.

“Paige, you’re up front with me. Keep your disk out.”

Having stood in a smooth motion that belied the pain she must have been in, Paige set a hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side.

“What,” She started, “Don’t trust me behind you?”

“Not at all,” Tron replied, causing Beck to groan softly and Zed to give a pained snicker, “But we’ll all need your skills with that disk if we’re going to make it to Lithium without losing another limb.”

That got Zed to stop snickering, and Mara to raise her head. Beck frowned.

“Are you expecting trouble?” He asked

“Worse,” Tron said with a narrow eyed glare into the mountains around them. “I’m expecting Grid-bugs.”

Of course. Beck grimaced. Of course it would be Grid-bugs.

“Right, right,” Zed nodded as they began to walk, only to stop and stare at Tron’s back with wide, fearful eyes. “WHAT?!”

Beck and Mara flinched at his volume. Tron’s mouth twisted into something that was more grimace than smile.

“Just keep moving,” Paige said before he could speak, tone dry as the stone around them. “The sooner we get there, the better.”

There was nothing any of them could say to that. With a final look back over his shoulder at Argon’s smoldering wreckage, Beck turned his face forward and kept walking. Zed’s hopping step was hard to keep pace with at first, nearly toppling the three of them more than once before they were able to find a proper rhythm. 

Which was good, since they had so much ground to get across! 

The nanos walked into micros, the micros crawled into an eighth, and an eighth dragged itself out into the featureless stone of the Outlands all around them. No one bothered to speak even as they slowly plodded along, leaving snow capped peaks and abyssal canyons in their wake. Tron and Paige walked with military efficiency just ahead, disks in their hands and tapping at their hips as both kept a sharp eye, and sharp ear, out for any sign of a threat.

Neither looked back, and neither noticed Beck watching them as they all plodded along. Now that there was relative peace and quiet, he couldn’t get his processor to slow down. Paige had said she couldn’t—wouldn’t—come with him, wouldn’t side with him, and yet here she was. Injured, marked with a burn much like the one across his chest, and barely willing to meet his eyes. Her circuits blazed green all the way down her frame, without even a secondary designation color, and there was not a pixel of red to be seen on her. Green was a very good look for her, he decided; it suited her. Better than Occupation red had, at least. 

And then there was Tron. Cyrus’ words were still caught in Beck’s processor: to have come from the same source code, to be offshoots of a single program…things like that hadn’t happened since the days of Flynn. Even Able hadn’t known much about that sort of thing, mentioning it only when Link had once asked why bike and tank code was so similar. Of course, Beck thought to himself, there was a pretty big difference between vehicles sharing code and _Programs_ sharing code. And it would be a big deal for the two of them, if Cyrus had been telling the truth, to be offshoots of Tron’s code. It would explain a lot of things.

If, and this was the really big if chimed in Beck’s logic unit, Cyrus hadn’t been lying. Tron had flinched, startled or unsure or even alarmed, but he’d barely reacted otherwise. He almost hadn’t cared. Did it mean nothing to him? Tron _was_ from the Old System. Maybe offshoots were just more common there? Beck sighed quietly, core lurching sideways a little. Why was this bothering him? It wasn’t like it really changed anything. And they still had more important things to deal with so--

“Hey—” Zed’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Beck snapped his head to the side, blinking as Mara and Zed’s worried faces came into focus, both watching him with concerned eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah—” Beck shook his head, “Yeah. Just…thinking too hard.” He forced the thoughts down, deeper in his queue for another time, before looking at Zed again. “How’s the leg?”

“Oh, you know,” he sighed, “doing okay, considering it’s just the one now.”

“Zed….” Mara groaned. She drew a deep breath in and opened her mouth--

Then she clicked it shut as Tron held up a clenched fist, forcing everyone to a halt. 

Zed grumbled, “What’s the big idea—” Only to be cut off as Beck slapped his free hand over his friend’s mouth when Paige went completely still. Even the wind had stopped, the area around them quiet as a city in a blackout. For a few nanos, no one dared to move for fear of attracting the attention of whatever had stalled their escort, but then Beck heard what had caught their attention.

Skittering, clicking, drawing ever closer. There was only one thing on the Grid that would ever make that sound.

Grid-bugs. 

“Where are they coming from?” Beck swiveled his head back, looking over each shoulder in turn, but he could see nothing but stone, no sign of their encroachers. Zed’s eyes widened as the sound registered, and Mara looked around as well. Ahead of them, Tron shook his head.

“I don’t know,” He said quietly, a hissing whisper they could barely hear, “But keep watch. We can’t afford an ambush.”

Paige scoffed quietly, gesturing the trio of mechanics forward without a word, her eyes back on the stone before Beck could try to catch her gaze. Despite the clicking, things were quiet. Slowly, not daring to speak any more, the five of them marched forward. All of them kept their eyes on the stone and mountains around them, waiting, watching for any sign of the Grid-bugs. Circuits flared overload bright as every one of them poured every ounce of power they could spare into visuals or audio, trying to sight the threat before it came.

In the end, it barely mattered. 

Mara caught sight of them first, letting loose a warning cry as, in the distance, pouring down the mountainside like rain were thousands of Grid-bugs, just itching to swarm over the five of them and devour them bit by excruciating bit. Zed shouted, shifting his weight as Mara and Beck both scrambled for their disks, kicking them on nearly in the same instant. Up ahead, Paige’s disk was a beacon of green-edged white while she slipped into a her old military stance beside Tron. For half a nano, Tron held his position, one arm spread wide as if to defend the three mechanics behind him and the other ahead to ward off the swarm with his disk alone. 

Then the swarm was on them, throwing itself upon the two like a wave of red. Paige shouted, lashing out with wide, forceful movements. Dozens of Grid-bugs fell to her every slash, and dozens more to Tron’s as the pair of them began to fall back to the three behind, but the swarm just kept coming! Like a wave on the shore it rushed them, unstoppable and just as dangerous as the Viral code-water they’d left behind. Dozens of the little things launched themselves at Paige and Tron, but the rest parted, trying to reach the three Mechanics and their larger energy source. Mara scrambled to grab the last of her free code grenades, throwing it at a knot of Grid-bugs. They went up in a cloud of pink and blue smoke, the graphic spreading across the Outlands stone, but for the fifty or so that had been destroyed another eighty took their place!

Lashing out with his disk, Beck snarled. They’d sooner be devoured than escape this with their limbs intact. Beck shifted his stance, trying to pull Zed and Mara in closer as Tron nearly disappeared beneath the swarm. He reappeared before Beck’s core could do more than lurch, swatting a pair of Grid-bugs off his arm as the knot of programs closed in on themselves. Zed looked around wildly, eyes wide.

“We’re trapped!”

Surrounded on all sides by swarming Grid-bugs, just waiting for a chance to slip in past four revving disks and destroy them. One arm still supporting Zed, Beck glared at the bugs. There was no way out of this mess.

Suddenly, a sound echoed down the stone around them. There was the throaty roar of an engine, and then—

A four-wheeler burst over the rise of the nearest hill, cleared their heads as they all ducked, and landed on the heart of the swarm. A hundred Grid-bugs went up into shards of code, followed by hundreds more of their fellows as the driver spun their vehicle so fast it nearly went onto its side. The white-blue circuits blurred as they gunned the engine, driving tight circles around the five programs like they were driving a bike and not a four-wheeler big enough to carry them all to safety. Hundreds more Grid-bugs were crushed beneath the wheels, until the swarm broke ranks and retreated, too much of its code lost to keep working. 

The four-wheeler jerked to a halt, and for a few nanos no one moved. Disks kept revving, circuits flickered between overload and normalcy as they all drew deep breaths and tried to calm overworking processors, but each of them looked up as the clear hatch above the seats popped open and a program stood up. White-blue circuits marked them as neutral, their asymmetrical tunic and long gloves marking them as female-designate, and not of Argon assignment. Beck tilted his head as both Tron and Paige went stiff, but his eyes went back to the driver as she retracted her helmet to reveal a pale face with icy blue eyes and dark hair in an asymmetric bob around her ears. She turned to them and smiled warmly.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” She asked lightly, jumping down from the driver’s seat to the ground. She hopped over a pile of Grid-bug remains and strode over to them, smile only widening as she stopped in front of Tron and put both hands on her hips. “Just like old times.”

Tron seemed to shake himself off. “Old times,” he said, “Didn’t involve you rescuing me, Quorra.”

Quorra _beamed_. She shifted her weight, peering over Tron’s shoulder to peer at the three mechanics. Her eyes lingered on Mara, took in Zed’s missing leg, looked at Beck, then looked back to Tron. She opened her mouth.

“Quorra?” Paige broke in suddenly. They all looked at her, and Beck’s core lurched. Her circuits were flickering, her disk dull in her hand. She stared, unmoving, at Quorra’s face. “You’re—how are you—?”

Quorra blinked, before her eyes went wide with something like recognition.

“Paige?” She asked quietly, “Is that…is that you?”

Paige didn’t answer. Her circuits went dark, and without a hint of fanfare she crumpled to the stone before anyone could catch her. Quorra lunged forward towards her as Beck’s eyes went wide.

“Paige!”

——

“How are they?” Quorra’s voice was soft, quiet in the darkness of an Outlands downcycle. Standing watch over the four sleeping Betas, Tron shook his head. Paige had crashed, _hard_ , and not stirred even as Quorra had taken them back to her camp hidden deep in the mountains half a milli’s drive from Lithium. The young ISO had offered them shelter, and looking over his charges, Tron had been loathe to turn her down.

Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to rest. He trusted Quorra, had offered her some training in their younger cycles, but she was still just one program. Clu no doubt wanted her derezzed as much as he wanted Beck and Tron captured. If they were found, he wouldn’t leave her to fight the army alone just because he needed a sleep cycle. Taking in a deep breath, he looked sideways at her.

“Asleep, all of them.” When she smiled knowingly, he turned away. Mara had chosen a spot closest to the entrance, curled around Zed as he lay on his side and hid his face in the crook of her neck. The cap on his ruined leg glowed a soft green-blue, lighting up Beck’s sleeping face where he rested sitting against the cold stone wall. Paige had been laid on her side at the back of the small cave, and Beck held her hand as they waited for her to rise. Of course, he’d drifted off into sleep mode before that happened, but Tron wouldn’t begrudge him that small comfort.

Users knew he’d be doing the same, had it been him and Yori in their position.

Yori. He was so _close_ he could taste it, feel her. He knew it was just his memory bank, but…he shook his head again to clear it of the thought and turned to Quorra. She didn’t take her eyes off the sleeping quartet, hands clasped around her crossed elbows.

“You know Paige?” He asked quietly. She nodded.

“A long time ago,” She began, “After the Purge, a friend of mine and I ended up in Gallium. Paige ran a Medical Center there, and our paths crossed.” She shrugged, looking down at the ground with a frown. “But someone called the army on us and we had to leave. I…haven’t seen her since then.”

Which meant she’d missed the fact that Paige had spent that same long time being Occupation. Tron huffed out a near silent sigh, looking back at dim green circuits. He’d never known a program to recover from repurposing like that before, but then, there weren’t many programs like Paige. Strong-willed, stubborn, desperate for something to believe in…he closed his eyes.

“How bad was it?” When Quorra made a confused noise, he continued, “The Purge. I was…in Clu’s custody for most of it.”

Quorra made a soft sound of sympathy, her hair whispering over her glove as she tucked an errant behind her ear.

“It was…bad,” She whispered, age old hurt deepening her voice, “There’s less than a dozen of us left now, and every single city that even harbored an ISO for a milli was quarantined or reformatted. Arjia was wiped off the map, Bostrum went viral, and whatever’s left of Helix is still under lock and key.” She sighed. “Clu was…very thorough.”

“Anon couldn’t stop him.”

Quorra barked out a laugh. He opened his eyes to see her grimace as the knot that was Mara-and-Zed shifted, before her voice lowered and her brow furrowed. 

“Anon couldn’t even slow him _down_ ,” She said with a surprising amount of viral hatred in her hiss, “After Clu came at you and Flynn, he found me. We worked together and took out the virus, but Clu…” She shook her head, clenching her fists at her sides. “He got lucky. When the Regulator came down, Anon…he…” She took in a deep breath, circuits flickering for just a moment before she regained enough calm to continue, “He saved me, but…he…”

“It’s alright,” Tron said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him with wavering eyes as he pinged [ _Calm_ ] down her circuits. “You don’t have to finish.”

She didn’t really need to. Though his last order to Anon had been to keep an eye on the virus, the changing situation would have meant a change in directive. If the virus was gone and Quorra was here, but Anon was not…he sighed quietly to himself as Quorra took another deep breath to grab hold of her composure. One more good program, lost in the war against Clu. 

How many more would it take to end it? He just couldn’t say. 

Quorra dashed a hand across her eyes, then shook her head.

“After Anon derezzed, Flynn found me.” She looked up at him, oblivious to Tron’s core having ground to a screeching halt. “We hid out in the Outlands for a while, but…” She frowned. “We had different ideas about how to handle the situation.”

Her words became static. Circuits flickering, Tron had to force himself to take several deep breaths to keep himself functional. With a quick access to recent memory storage, he came to a stark, cold realization:

Flynn had never gotten off the Grid. He was still here. 

“Flynn is,” He distantly heard himself gasp, cutting Quorra off mid-sentence, “Still here?”

Quorra blinked. “Of course he is. He couldn’t reach the Portal in time.” She reached towards him. “You didn’t know?”

Tron stumbled back, circuits flickering rapidly. The wall of stone was cold against his port as he landed against it and slid to the ground. His frame shook, his breath trembled. Flynn had never made it back to the Portal. He was still on the Grid. 

He hadn’t done a thing to stop Clu.

“I told him to run,” Tron whispered as Quorra came to her knees in front of him, placing both hands on his knees and staring at his face with wide eyes. “Clu and his guard, they came for Flynn and I—I held them off, but it wasn’t—I wasn’t—”

He’d given _everything_ to buy Flynn time to escape, and the User had squandered it. Wasted the only chance he had left to stop it, to save the Grid, every program on it, like it meant nothing. Tron’s core spun up, growing heated.

“I told him to go!” He almost shouted, slamming a fist hard against the stone beside him. Quorra jumped, though none of the betas in the other room stirred. Tron groaned, muffling the sound into the palm of his other hand as his fist dragged down the rough stone. Quorra’s face fell. She leaned forward, taking his wrist into both her hands. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Why didn’t he go?”

“…I don’t know,” She whispered, “You’d have to ask him that question, if you really want to know.”

Did he? Did he really want the answer to that question? No. It had been easier thinking that Flynn had abandoned them, easier nursing the old hurt of his User and Flynn both turning their backs on him. Now? To know that Flynn had simply never managed to escape? That was a fresh wound. He’d failed his directive, both self-given and programmed. If Alan-One could see him now, he would be so ashamed of his program. Tron’s core lurched at the thought, and he forced himself to breathe before he could shut down. Once again, he shook his head.

“No,” He said softly at first, then again with more firmness, “No. I don’t.” He opened his eyes, trying not to think about the understanding he could see in the furrow of Quorra’s brow. “I need to get us to Lithium. Can you help me?”

For a moment, Quorra was silent. Then, slowly, still holding his wrist between her gloved hands, she nodded.

“Sure. Just—” She cocked her head, “Do something for me first.” When he raised a brow at her she smiled. “The last any program had heard, you’d been derezzed. Then, all of a sudden, we start getting hints that Tron is active on the southern edge of the Grid? There’s a story there.”

Tron turned his head, looking at the four sleeping programs. One corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

“…It’s a very long story.”

—

It was raining again. Beck sat, port cooling against the stone of the cave they rested in, elbow on his knee, and turned his head towards the sound. It was outside, near where Tron and Quorra had gone to speak without waking any of them.

Any more of them, at least. 

Beck scrubbed his hand over his face. It would be a long time before he could erase the sheer _pain_ he’d heard in Tron’s voice from his memory storage, if he ever could at all. He’d kept silent, unsure what to do or even what to think. Flynn had always been a myth to his generation of programs, known but not. Now, not only was Flynn likely still functional, he was still on the Grid. And he’d had to have had a hand in Beck’s rezzing all those cycles ago if he really did share source code with Tron.

Unless Tron’s User was involved with that, at least. There was just no way to know, and thinking about it too hard was making his processor ache. Beside him, Zed and Mara slept on, undisturbed. On his other side, Paige slowly opened her eyes. He looked down as she stirred, hand slipping from his grasp as she began to try and rise off her side where they’d laid her down.

“Take it slow,” He whispered, startling her into looking up. “You crashed hard back there.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed quietly. It said a lot that she let him help her to sit up, back against the wall, rather than fight to do it herself. Once she was upright, he pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them, watching as she tried to comb rain-damp tangles out of her hair. Her eyes were dark, her brow furrowed, her circuits dim.

He knew an overthinking program when he saw one. 

“Tesler?” She looked at him again as he gestured at her sides, still marked with broad blue patches to hide red-green burns, much like the ones he still carried. She nodded, raking both hands through her wild hair.

“He’s not going to be a problem anymore,” She said quietly, then finished more firmly, “I derezzed him myself.”

Beck’s eyes widened. Paige, of all programs, had fought _Tesler_? Her own commanding officer? He raised his head, reaching out with one hand.

“What happened?” He asked, “I thought you were on his side.”

“So did I,” She sighed, giving up on the tangles in her hair and lowering her hands to her lap. “But it turns out he wasn’t who I thought he was, either. At all.” She shook her head. “You were right. I should have listened to you.”

“Paige…” He reached out, putting a hand on her knee. She looked up, peering at him through her hair. “You did what you thought was right. What matters is you got out intact. The rest…” He shrugged, offering her a tiny smile. “We can deal with the rest.”

For a long micro, she said nothing. She watched him, searched his face, searching for something he just couldn’t name. But she did seem to find it, because she returned his smile.

“How did you stay so optimistic with a program like him for a mentor?” She asked ruefully, “He’s not exactly energy bubbles and auroras.”

Beck couldn’t help it: he laughed. Energy bubbles and Auroras was _definitely_ not the way to describe Tron with any degree of accuracy, and the milli it turned out to be true would be the milli he finally ran for the hills. Stretching out his legs, Beck grinned.

“Comes with the territory, I guess. Someone’s got to balance him out or we’d both have gone a little…”

“Off-directive?” She raised a brow at him, but her smile was still there. Rather than deny it he shrugged, then raised his head.

“Back there,” He gestured out to the mouth of the cave with one hand, the rain growing louder, “You recognized Quorra, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Paige nodded. She gazed down at her hands still in her lap, idly tracing the circuits on her arms as she spoke. “A long time ago, I…I was a Medic in Gallium. Quorra ended up there, somehow.” Her voice grew quiet, distant. “She’s the one who first taught me how to fight. Which was really stupid for a Medic program, but it saved me when Tesler came to…clean things up.”

That needed no further explanation. Beck grimaced, able to paint a picture of what she must have seen. Tesler’s crew hadn’t exactly been known for their light touch. Beside him, Paige sighed.

“And I couldn’t even keep my friends safe, or my patients functional. Couldn’t heal, couldn’t be a good soldier…Grid.” She leaned her head back, thunking it against the wall. “What good is a program who can’t keep either of her directives?”

Beck’s core lurched. Slowly, cautiously, he scooted over until they sat arm to arm, his shoulders just a little taller than hers. 

“A good one,” He whispered, “One who means well and does her best to take care of others.” He reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers to transmit [ _comfort_ ] down the circuits on her arm. “Even if it doesn’t work out the way she planned.”

She looked at him with soft eyes for a long moment, then, slowly, leaned her cheek against his shoulder. In his grip, her hand turned to rub her thumb over his knuckles. She laughed quietly as one of the circuits on his wrist flickered violet in the dim light, but didn’t move.

“Careful,” She whispered, “That soft core’ll get you derezzed if you don’t watch out.”

Beck just smiled.

“Then it’s a good thing we’ve got a Medic around—ah—” He hissed as she reached over with her other hand, poking the edge of a patch. She quirked a brow at him as he pouted down at her.

“You’re held together by bits and strings, Beck,” She shook her head. “I’m good, but I’m not _that_ good.”

“I don’t know,” He tilted his head away, “If you heal half as good as you fought me? We’re in really good hands.” When she didn’t seem too convinced, he squeezed her hand. “Seriously, though. I’m glad you’re with us.”

She snorted. “You’re just saying that because I can reset your patches.”

“Maybe. Well, okay, kind of,” He snickered, smiling as the corners of her mouth turned upwards. “But, honestly? I was kind of worried about you back there.”

“Only kind of?”

“You could knock anybody straight on their port, so yeah.” He closed his eyes, leaning his head against hers. When she didn’t move, he relaxed. “So yeah, only kind of.”

“Lucky me.” She snorted quietly, amusement coloring her tone. With nothing left to say, both went silent. Outside, the rain continued its hissing downpour as inside, Zed and Mara slept on. Beck himself fell into a light doze against Paige’s side, just listening to her breathing and the sound of the rain. Sooner or later, they’d have to get up and move on. Zed needed actual medical care, and none of them could do anything from in here. He didn’t think he or Tron could sit idly by in a cave for very long, either. But for right now, at that moment, he didn’t mind the quiet.

“So,” Paige said suddenly, bringing him back to wake mode, “Your mentor. Is he…” She paused for a couple of nanos, then rolled her head to meet his eyes. “What does Tron think about all this?”

Beck opened his mouth, then stopped as bootsteps echoed in the cave. He turned his head.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Paige turned. There, at the mouth of the cave, was Tron. He didn’t look happy.

“It’s time to go.”

—  
Rain beat against the outer shell of the four-wheeler as Quorra drove the five of them across the Outlands. The four betas were squished together shoulder to shoulder in the backseat, Paige by one window and Zed smushed between Beck and Mara on either side to keep him upright. They all looked tired, worn, circuits dim by the lack of energy.

Not that, Tron knew, he looked much better. All that was keeping him upright was the need to keep the four of them safe, and the knowledge that soon, he’d see Yori again.

Yori. Leading the resistance in Lithium, barely a kilometer away as Quorra’s steady driving left Outlands stone far behind.

“You never explained who Yori is,” Beck said as he leaned forward, hands on the driver and passenger seats to hold steady as Quorra went over a hill, “Is she from the Old System?”

“She is,” Tron nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s my partner program. Flynn brought us both over when he established the Grid.” He frowned. The last time he’d seen Yori had been before the Coup. All this time, he’d mourned her, though her derezzed when the Capitol had fallen to Clu’s forces, but now… “She kept the Portal in working order on this side so he could come and go. When it went dark, I thought she had too, but…”

“She’s definitely functional,” Quorra said with a glance at him. In the distance, Lithium’s glowing high-rises drew nearer and nearer with each passing micro. “She’s been running a pretty sizable resistance out of Lithium’s Dark Side for a while now. The Sirens are helping her, last I knew.”

“Sirens—” Mara leaned over, her head of cyan hair just visible in Tron’s peripheral vision, “Does that mean that Ruby was working with her?”

 _Yori lives_ , Ruby had said just a triple ago. Giving his processor a sharp internal shove, Tron nodded.

“It does,” He said, choosing to ignore the odd look that came over Beck’s face at that, “But they kept it quiet. Nothing like what we did.”

“That wouldn’t take much,” Paige chimed in dryly as Beck and Mara sat back, “Considering some of the soldiers bet energy rations on what bit of Argon you’d blow up next.”

Zed burst out laughing, and kept laughing even as Mara whacked his arm with the back of her hand and Beck groaned. Quorra grinned, eyes on the road ahead as they reached Lithium’s lower gate. Unlike Argon, there wasn’t much of an Occupation presence here, down in the Dark Side. Tron peered out the window as they drove, the sights unfamiliar. He’d been to Lithium once before, as Flynn had been getting it and the highway to it set up, but that had been a long time ago. It was a different city now, Quorra had explained, cut into two sides by it’s Occupation General, Ion. On the Light Side as Quorra had called it were the high-rises and programs that had backed Clu in any way possible and were rewarded with luxurious apartments and high energy rations to play around with. On the other, the Dark Side that was named for it’s dark streets and scant lights, lived working programs, programs that had not agreed with Clu but not sided against him, either. Tron watched as dimly lit faces flashed by on the side of the road, programs just trying to get through their run-times without trouble, paying little heed to the four-wheeler that Quorra drove into an unassuming building deep within the mazelike streets of the Dark Side.

Once they were inside, she killed the engine and popped the hatch. Tron hopped down first, taking in the building as Mara and Beck helped Zed to get down; the building was a warehouse of some kind, completely empty but for a small hatch in the corner. Quorra walked over to the hatch and pried it open, revealing a set of stairs that led below. She looked up as Tron and Paige walked closer.

“This leads down into the Undercity,” She said, “Where Lithium’s Resistance is based. We can find a Medic for Zed there.” She looked at the three Mechanics as she said that, all of them sighing in relief. She smiled at them, then looked to Tron. “And I’ll take you to Yori. Come on.”

She led them down the stairs, down into brightly lit corridors that turned at sharp angles. Programs in black suits with varying assignment markings greeted Quorra like an old friend but paid little heed to Tron and his faceless helmet, or to the three hobbling Mechanics and Paige just beside them. Sirens in gleaming white milled among themselves, and they all noticed as Tron walked past, staring with wide eyes and silent mouths. Zed yelped as he nearly ended up dragged when he spent too long looking after a Siren instead of keeping pace, Mara humphing quietly as they came to a door marked with the green lines of a Medic. Quorra knocked once, then stepped inside. 

Like the rest of the Undercity, the large room here was well lit, medical equipment gleaming under the bright lights. A black suited male-designate looked up as they entered, but when he caught sight of Zed he stood up so quickly his chair almost clattered to the ground.

“What on the Grid happened to you?” The Medic shouted, coming around a medical table to help get Zed on-board. Paige spoke up to explain, Medic to Medic, but Tron turned away as Quorra touched his elbow.

“Yori’s probably in the command center. This way,” She walked off down the hall. Tron made to follow, only to stop as Beck came up beside him. The young program shook his head.

“If you want to do this alone, just tell me,” Beck said, “but I don’t like the idea of you going off without back-up.”

Back-up that Beck knew, he meant. Tron knew the feeling, and even though he was fully capable of taking care of himself and Quorra was there, had their positions been reversed he’d have done the same thing. Wordlessly, he nodded. Beck returned the gesture and the two of them were off down the hall after Quorra, following her back through the sharp turns and winding corridors of the Undercity. It lived up to its name: they walked so far it must have gone under the entire city of Lithium, storage units and connecting tunnels serving as the perfect place for a growing resistance so long as they kept quiet.

And, Tron thought, the perfect place to get trapped if they weren’t careful. There were so many turns it would take a User-given miracle not to get lost down here. The nano he could, he’d put the Mechanics and Paige through their paces to learn at least a half dozen escape routes, whether or not Yori was actually here. He tried not to think about that, tried not to rush ahead of Quorra as she guided them through rapidly thickening knots of programs, but each passing nano dragged on his processor like nails down his back. 

He just wanted to see her. Know she was still functional. That would be enough.

He tried to convince himself of that as Quorra led them through a set of open double doors and into a massive room filled with programs. Tron caught sight of a table inside before the doorway was blocked, and Quorra huffed around a frown.

“Just wait a nano,” she grumbled, shouldering her way through two programs at the entrance. They parted for her to pass, and that was when Tron saw her.

"Yori." Tron whispered. He watched, barely feeling Beck’s hand on his arm. All around them, programs lined in blue-white were talking amongst themselves, some consulting data panels, others reading off of tablets around a large table in the center of the room. The holo-display beamed the schematic of some building, but Tron didn’t bother paying attention to it. His eyes were only on the program clear across from him.

There she was. Her hair was different now, cropped shorter around her ears instead of her long braid of the cycles before, the color of her suit darker than he remembered, but he would know her anywhere. It took everything he had not to rush over to her. Quorra slipped through the crowd around her like a shadow until she came to Yori’s side, bending to whisper in Yori’s ear. Half listening to Quorra and half listening to the male-designate reading off a tablet, Yori inclined her head before she snapped it up as Quorra’s words sunk in. She looked at Quorra first, eyes wide as Quorra smiled and nodded, gesturing back to the doorway. Slowly, as if she dared not hope, Yori looked to him.

Across the room, their eyes met. Like the first time they’d ever met, a connection took root. He took a step forward as she stood up so fast her chair clattered to the floor. Everyone besides Beck and Quorra jumped, staring with widening eyes as Yori took a step around the table, then another, and another after that until the pair of them met by the doorway. The programs around became a murmur as the entirety of the Grid shrunk to just the two of them. She stared, eyes searching his face for something, or perhaps just taking him in.

"Tron..." she breathed after a moment, reaching up to put a hand on his cheek. He sighed shakily and leaned into her touch, knowing that his healing meant he was just as she remembered him. 

Well, no. They'd both changed. But not enough that she couldn't recognize him. Her eyes softened.

"Users....it _is_ you." 

She pulled him down, wrapping her arms around him. With another shaky sigh, Tron wrapped both arms around her and held on.

Finally, after so many cycles, he was _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely a much quieter chapter, but after the shitty triple they all had? They could use a bit of quiet. :3 not that it’ll last, I’m sure.
> 
> Also yes, Lithium-Ion. I went there and I am not sorry.


	11. 00110001-00110001

“Looks like home, doesn’t it?” Yori asked quietly, her head leaned back against Tron’s chest. He watched a loose lock of hair shift across her face as his deep breath gently shifted her, then reached down to gently tuck it back behind her ear.

“It does.” He replied, though they both knew they weren’t talking about Lithium’s glimmering highrises visible from the balcony of her apartment overlooking the Dark Side. For the past downcycle milli they’d been here, drinking in each other’s company, taking stock of the past five hundred cycles, and trying to piece together a plan.

Some of those had gone better than others. For her part she’d cursed Clu and Dyson for everything they’d done, mourned and toasted Able alongside him, and listened as he told her what he’d done, how he’d survived, how he’d come to find her again. Then he’d listened as she told him the same, explained to him that Ruby had been with her that fateful milli when Clu had nearly ruined everything. Had it not been for Ruby, she’d said, she wouldn’t be here.

He had to tell her that Ruby was gone. Yori had shaken her head at that, squeezing his hands from where he’d taken hers to support her.

 _“Ruby,”_ She’d said, _“Has a way of surviving things that would derezz a lot of other programs. We’ll see her again.”_

He hadn’t wanted to dash what hope she had left, not after all their time spent apart finally came to an end. And so, here they were, still holding on to one another despite the brightening system time. Below, programs were leaving their homes, headed for work or play, and none bothered to look up as they wound their way through the grid-like streets of the Dark Side. Tron sighed into her hair.

“You know Clu will be tracking us, don’t you?” He whispered. She hummed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “We can’t stay.”

“I know,” She replied, “And honestly?” She rolled her head up to peer at him through her lashes. “Things are going to change now that you’re here. I tried my best, but I never did take to combat like you did,” She closed her eyes. “My programs are a little on the untrained side. They’re good, and they’re clever, but they’re not…even rookie security material. Even Quorra knew better when we were all together.”

He nudged her with an elbow.

“Want me to whip them into shape?”

“Yes, but…” She trailed off with a sigh, looking back across the horizon with sightless eyes. He bent over to get a look at her face, watching the emotions flicker across it. Concern furrowed her brow, guilt pulled at the corners of her mouth, and was that…she sighed a second time as if to clear her inputs, then looked up at him.

"With you still functional, we can rally more and more programs to the cause. The Sirens have been training small resistance movements across the Grid, but if they know you're still with us, then..."

"They have someone to rally behind." Tron swallowed back the acrid taste of sour energy. He was just one program, not some User-level figurehead. Clu needed to be stopped, yes, but to turn him into a symbol like that? "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"We don't really have time for another one," Yori frowned, "Not just because Clu’s going to come after you, but because the longer this drags out, the worse our odds become. Honestly?" She shook her head. "We were already planning a raid to take him out before you showed up."

Tron's core lurched. "Yori--" He shifted around her, coming to sit in front and turning to look her in the eye, "You'd have all been derezzed!"

She met his gaze without flinching.. "That's a cost we're all willing to pay, Tron," She said firmly, "To save our home. We’re the only ones who can.”

Tron’s shoulders slumped. Beck wasn’t the _only_ one who sounded too much like Tron for their own good, clearly. He shook his head, their joined hands dropping into his lap between them. Yori shifted to sit on her knees as she tilted her head.

“…Did…” She paused for a nano, then said instead, “You know Flynn is still on the Grid, right?” She tilted her head a little, “He’s still here.”

“Quorra told me,” Tron sighed. Like a tank inside a house, Flynn’s presence—his lack of, really—sat between them. It needed to be discussed and yet… “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” She leaned back. “Tron, he abandoned you. Abandoned all of _us_ , too.”

“And if he hasn’t come back by now, he’s not going to.” He shook his head. “Yori, you knew Flynn just as well as I did.” He looked at her, the high wind playing with their hair. “Once he set himself on a course he wouldn’t change it. We’re on our own.”

“Tron—”

“And maybe it’s better that way,” He said over her, “Flynn’s disk is the Master Key. If Clu gets hold of it, then—”

“Tron!” Yori squeezed his hands tight. He anchored himself around that sensation as she continued, “It’s okay to be angry with him.”

Tron startled, circuits flaring as he drew in a deep breath to protest, to say he wasn’t angry that instead he understood why Flynn had stayed away why he hadn’t stepped in but—he let it out with a long sigh, squeezing her hands in return as she held on.

“…He could have stopped all of this. Should have.” He frowned deeply, voice rising in volume as he continued, “He was System Administrator. He could have quarantined Clu and the soldiers, or made his own way out of the city, not—” He was nearly shouting. He stopped himself, sighing explosively and looking away from Yori’s soft, sympathetic eyes. “I”m sorry,” He said quietly, “I’m not upset with you, I just…”

Yori shook her head.

“It’s alright,” She said, “I’m angry with him, too.” He looked back at her, startled, “You may have told him to run, but he still left you to be derezzed or worse. After all you’d done for him…” She tightened her grip on his hands, shaking her head. Her hair whispered over the back of her neck. “He should have been protecting _you_ , Tron. Should have been protecting all of us, but he didn’t. He failed us.”

For a long micro, Tron was silent. He looked from Yori to the skyline, thoughts churning a kilometer a nano. It had been his directive to protect the Grid from threats, program and system alike. He’d _failed_ , utterly, and would spend the rest of his runtime trying to make up for that. But, if he looked at it logically, how long had he been playing a rigged game? Flynn had been all but gone even before the Coup, Clu was taking over more and more systems, doing more and more reckless things to combat his perceived threats…

Had it really only been a matter of time before it all came down, crashing to the ground around Flynn’s feet? Had Tron himself, and all other programs, been caught up in Flynn’s negligence? The thought caught in his core like a bad read, but he refused to shake it off. Flynn had done a lot of good things, including bringing Tron and Yori both here before the Old System was to be shut down, but he’d also done a lot of bad things.

He’d abandoned them, all of them, long before Clu had staged his coup. The only reason the coup had worked half as well as it had for the first hundred cycles was because the grand majority of the Basics within the Grid had been fed up with Flynn’s lack of presence, his perceived abandonment and favoring of the Isos. Afterwards, of course, the Occupation had become its own problem, and Clu needed to be brought down, but one thing was clear to Tron:

The problems had started with Flynn, and they would end with Clu. Somehow, they would have to.

Turning his attention back to Yori he nodded.

“He failed. But we won’t” Or they would derezz trying. He watched with a lurch of his core as Yori beamed, pulling his hands up to her face to kiss his bare knuckles, watching the remnant of the Old System pattern flicker violet with an odd detachment.

“That’s the plan,” She said as she lowered his hands again, “And Clu isn’t going to know what hit him.”

“He’ll see us coming,” Tron sighed, “He’s probably watching for Beck and I already.”

Yori tilted her head. “Beck—oh, right. Your beta. He’s helped you?”

“More than I can say.”

More than he could ever say, either to her or to Beck himself. And there were so many things he needed to say to Beck before things flipped over again. Things the young program needed to know, just in case everything went south again. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Tron looked to meet Yori’s eyes.

“Yori. He’s an offshoot.”

Yori’s eyes went wide. “Who’s--oh—” She squeezed his hands again. “He’s your offshoot, isn’t he.”

It wasn’t a question, but Tron nodded all the same. He leaned back, staring into Lithium airspace. There had barely been time to think about it before in the chaos of escaping Argon and reaching Lithium, but the more thought he gave it the more sense it made. Beck had taken to Tron’s training the same way a Monitor would have, the same way a program coded for Security would have. And yet, all Beck had known how to do was code engines and repair vehicles. No amount of games with his friends could have given him the edge he’d need to keep up with Tron if he’d truly been just a repair program.

But somehow, he had. He’d not only kept up, he’d thrived, excelled, survived things even Tron himself would have found difficult. He’d come so very far. And while it would have been amazing to think that a mechanic could act on an overarching desire to repair what was broken, Tron thought to himself, there was likely a simpler solution to this line of questioning.

“Flynn coded him just before the Coup,” He said quietly, “Able must have taken him when he left the Capitol.” Tron huffed out a quiet laugh. There was Able, still saving his disk even when he was long gone. Yori smiled sadly.

“That would be just like him, wouldn’t it? Saving some poor Beta from all that chaos.”

“It would be,” Tron sighed with a shake of his head, “Able…knew what he was doing. He always did. Sometimes I wonder…” He trailed off, then closed his eyes. It wasn’t important. Not any longer. “Beck’s a good program, Yori. He learns quickly, takes care of his bundle, does the right thing…”

“Sounds to me like you care about him,” She said softly, “Quite a bit, too.”

Did he? He did. Long before all of this, Tron realized, Flynn had spoken to him of his son, a being created by both Flynn and his partner together, formed from their code into a new creation. Was this the same? Probably not. But he could remember the warmth in Flynn’s eyes, the softness of his smile, as he’d spoken of his little beta called Sam. 

It was that same warmth that clung to Tron’s core, offering some degree of strength, of purpose. He hadn’t been the best mentor, had failed Beck more than once, and yet…he’d stayed. He’d stuck it out, earned his place at Tron’s side even though he’d been created to stand there. He’d been the one to save Tron in the end, and not just from Dyson’s viral gift. 

He just…needed to find a way to tell Beck that, somehow. 

He looked to Yori then, seeing that she’d realized it too. Her smile was soft, her eyes warm, and she squeezed his hands. She always had been able to read him like an open page.

“I trust Beck,” Tron said quietly, “He’s a good program. He cares.”

“He’s your offshoot and you’re biased.” Yori countered with a smile that was soon replaced by a sterner expression, “Setting that aside, do you think he knows what he’s doing?”

Tron grimaced. Beck was only half trained, but… “I…wouldn’t go that far just yet. There’s a lot he’s still got left to learn.”

“And not much time left to teach him.” Yori finished. She shook her head. “He might have to stay behind.”

“He won’t,” Tron said firmly, “I can tell him to, but he won’t listen. He’s in this for the long haul.”

“Are you?” She asked him. He drew back as she continued, “You know just as well as I do who we’ll have to go through to reach Clu. Do you really want Beck going up against that kind of threat half-trained?”

Dyson. They would have to fight Dyson, the one program Tron had warned Beck to stay very, very, very far away from, and the one who’d nearly derezzed Beck with his own two hands. Tron felt himself snarl before Yori let go of his hands, reaching up to cup his face and gently rub the skin beneath his eyes with her thumbs. She shook her head when he looked at her.

“Talk to him first. If he’s come this far with you, he deserves the right to decide where he’s going now. Besides,” Still holding his face, she looked back across the skyline, “We’re going to need a little time to get ready, anyway. We’ll only have one shot at this.”

“You’re right about that,” Tron sighed, closing his eyes, “And if this doesn’t work, we’ll all be wishing we’d derezzed.”

——

“There,” Edison said with a last poke at Zed’s frame code, “good as new. Now,” The medic paused, holding Zed’s disk between two fingers as Zed stood up to test his new leg. He could see the bridge between new code and old glimmering faintly in the bright overhead lights, and his mobility circuit ached a bit as he put weight down, but it held. He looked up as Edison continued, “Don’t strain this for at least a triple. Take a walk, light duty, but don’t let _anyone_ , and I do mean anyone, put you on patrol.”

Zed took his disk back with a frown. “Is patrol that bad?”

“Worse,” Edison grimaced as he stood up, “They’ll have you out there for a milli, and nothing ever happens. You’ll derezz from boredom.”

Oh. Zed snorted, docking his disk.

“I dunno,” he said mostly to himself, “That sounds like the most peaceful way to go around here.”

“What was that?” Edison asked, causing Zed to shake his head.

“Nothing—hey, thanks for the fix. I’ll try not to come back this way.”

Edison laughed, waving him off with a “see that you don’t, program!”, and Zed stepped out into the twisting tunnels of the Undercity. Sharp lines and corners were nearly empty now, the early system time of an upcycle forcing the Resistance programs to their topside assignments. Some stayed down here, and a few even nodded at him as he wandered the halls, but most had other things that needed doing.

Unlike him. As his feet led him randomly down corners, Zed had time to think. Paige had stayed to help Edison get the cap off his leg and set the code to repair a milli ago, but once she’d seen him to stability she’d taken Mara somewhere with the excuse of training. Beck had headed off with Tron and Quorra a half milli before that, and Grid only knew where he’d gotten off to in the time since.

Once again, Zed had been left behind. That was just typical.

He sighed loudly, blindly turning another corner. Then he stopped and looked up, meeting startled pale blue eyes. Yori blinked back at him, Tron standing just a pace behind her as both read something off a tablet. For a nano he contemplated stepping back, apologizing and excusing himself, or even asking if either had seen Beck or Mara, but then he stopped.

He needed to do something for himself this time.

“Hey, uh—” He swallowed down a good bit of trepidation, giving his core a proverbial shove. “Yori?”

"Zed, right?" Yori inclined her head as he nodded, "Can I help you with something?"

Trying to ignore Tron practically glaring at him--which was hard; the program was even more intimidating without his helmet!--Zed spread his palms towards her.

"Is there a garage or a mechanics bay in here? I...need to do something."

Tron and Yori both blinked at him for a moment. Then they shared a look with one another, causing Tron to very nearly roll his eyes and Yori to smile knowingly. She turned back to Zed, putting a light hand on his shoulder.

“Right this way.”

Leaving Tron behind, she guided him down the sharp curves and twisting turns of the Undercity base they called home. Three rights, two lefts, a good eighth of a kilometer straight, and then another left for good measure later, they came to a large, open room. Zed could just see the glimmers of light in the ceiling that spoke of lifts or access hatches, each above a sorry looking vehicle.

“Here we are,” Yori said, the lights coming on as they stepped inside. A tool chest rested just ahead of them, and Zed stepped towards it to begin sorting for parts or usable tools. “The sorry code bank that is our communal garage. Everything else is on a program, so…” She shrugged, holding her tablet to her chest. “You’ll have to make friends if you want any more to work with.”

“Least I’m good at that much,” Zed grumbled to himself. The tool chest was full of bypassers and wrenches, doubtlessly standard to any garage. It was really overstocked for a garage this small, though. Maybe programs borrowed them to fix their own bikes? You didn’t need to be a mechanic to use a bypasser.

“Zed,” Yori said suddenly, startling him into dropping a wrench back into its drawer with a clatter, “What’s this really about?”

He turned to look at her, and then had to look away from her knowing eyes.

“Nothing,” He began, but when she made a soft “uh-huh” sound, he shook his head. "I mean.." He pawed through the tools. "Mara's command-assigned. She can keep us all in line. Paige is a medic who fights like a horde of Grid-bugs. Beck fights like Tron..." He laughed ruefully. "I can barely outrun anybody, forget know how to fight. What good can I do?" 

“That’s a hard question to answer,” Yori said, “To tell you the truth, I’m the last program you should be asking that.”

He looked up from the tool chest, startled. She had a distant look in her eyes, almost as if she was looking off into the past or at something he couldn’t see. Tron got those same looks sometimes, he realized. And he doubted it was just because they were both from the Old System.

“I was designed to help my User, Zed, and Lora-B isn’t here anymore.” She shook her head. “Most of us are just learning as we go. You’ll figure something out, and, in the meantime…” She smiled ruefully, looking around their half-empty garage. “…No one would say no to a tune-up.” She looked down at her tablet, then stood up straight. “I need to get back to work. If you run out of things to do, you just let me know.”

“Yeah,” He said with a half-cored wave, looking around as she headed out the door, “Sure. I’ll do that.”

Then he sighed heavily and leaned on the tool chest and looked around. Five bikes, a tank that looked ready to collapse if someone so much as cleared their intakes on it, and Quorra’s four-wheeler. It would take him less than a milli to get through all of this, and then where would he be? In need of something else to do again. No, this wouldn’t work at all. He stood back up and moved to leave the garage, only to stop and look back.

He looked at the wrenches, the bypassers, then grabbed one and headed out the door.

Finding Beck, at least, was as easy as following the shouting. Standing at the entrance to a makeshift training room, Beck had his back to the wall as he watched Mara take a wild swing at Paige, who simply side-stepped out of the way with a smirk. Zed grimaced as this seemed to get Mara all riled up and she gave chase.

“Thought that’d be you and Tron,” Zed said as he came up to stand beside Beck. They both watched Paige and Mara for a moment, then Beck shook his head.

"Medic's orders to not get into any fights for another milli." Beck laughed quietly, watching as Paige grabbed Mara by the arm and then flipped her clean onto her port. "And Paige is one program you don't want to get mad at you."

"Noticed that." Zed gulped. Mara was fine—she’d stood up and Paige was already correcting her stance, and yet...he shuddered, then held the bypasser out towards Beck.

"Here," He said, "In case you need a quick exit or something." When Beck just blinked at him, he waggled the tool. "Don't think I don't know this thing got you out of a few messy scrapes before, buddy."

Beck smiled ruefully. He took the tool from Zed’s fingers, staring at it for a long half-micro, before he clipped it to his thigh. If Zed didn’t stare too hard, look for too long, he could pretend that Beck hadn’t changed, that he was still the same mechanic that just had a way with bikes no one else could ever manage…even if he was slower than an a club in the downcycle most of the time.

But Beck had changed. His casual stance was now tighter, arms held across his chest instead of loose at his sides. His weight was distributed differently even as he was at rest, legs bent and ready to push him off in a nano if he needed to. And, most tellingly, he hadn’t turned his disk to Zed yet. Before the Occupation had come to Argon, he’d have trusted Zed and Mara both with his back without hesitation. Now…Zed shoved at his core again, opening his mouth to speak only to stop as Beck turned his head to look back the way he’d came. Zed turned, and they both watched as Tron and Yori walked past the doorway with Quorra, arms linked. Beck frowned, brow furrowing deeply. Zed’s core sank to somewhere around his ankles.

Beck really had changed. The thought made him want to find a place to hide.

"I know that look," Zed said, startling Beck from his thoughts, "You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Maybe." Beck sighed, turning back to watch Paige toss Mara clear across the training floor. He and Zed both grimaced as she landed with intake-stalling heaviness, wheezing her way to lay curled on her side. "Though maybe I should go save Mara first."

"Yeah..." Zed scrunched up his nose, "I think that's about as bad a plan as ever."

“Plans always end up fragged with me around, Zed,” Beck said as he clapped a hand to his friend’s shoulder, “You’ll probably learn that in a real hurry.”

“Yeah…” Zed sighed, watching as Beck easily sidestepped Paige attempting to grab him and shove him from the training ring as he went to help Mara to her feet. “Kind of already did.”

—

“Shouldn’t you be in sleep mode?”

Beneath the Resistance’s sorry excuse for a tank and shoulder deep in its code, Beck sighed and stopped an internal timer. Slowly, he began disentangling himself from strings and feedback loops.

“Needed to do something with my hands,” He said, hearing Tron walk closer. A full milli of training had put Mara down hard, and even Zed had a limit to how much code he could repair within a triple. Paige had returned to Edison, saying she needed to brush up on her repair skills if she was going to stay with the Resistance, and that had left Beck flailing in the proverbial wind. “Figured I’d start here.”

Not that it had worked as well as he was used to it working. Though it had worked to quiet his straining processor, there was no denying his skills as a mechanic had slipped somewhat. Code just didn’t behave the way it used to anymore, his fingers slow and clumsy around damaged strings, and Zed’s gift of a bypasser would have made things just a little too easy. Halfway through getting out of a loop, he heard Tron sigh.

“…Can you spare a few micros? We need to talk about something.”

Well. This would be fun. 

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Beck yanked himself out of the tank’s code and pushed his way out from beneath it. He turned his head to look at Tron standing above Beck’s wheeled board, but didn’t rise. Instead he dismissed his HUD back into the emitter, then dropped his arms to drag his fingers along the floor. He’d returned to his Argon-issue suit not long after Tron and Yori had disappeared, and Tron was still in his heavier armor, circuits bright at each joint. Neither seemed very heroic at that moment, just a pair of programs with things to talk about. Beck let the breath out.

“Sure.” He sat up slowly, keeping his backside on the board even as he put his feet on the ground. “What’s up?”

“Yori intends to lead the Resistance against Clu within the next three triples,” Tron said, “even if it means they’ll all be derezzed.”

Snow went down Beck’s spine at that. Eyes wide, he jumped to his feet. The board rolled to clatter against something, but he didn’t look after it.

“She’s going to _what_?!” He nearly shouted. Arms crossed over his chest, Tron nodded.

“The Sirens are training other resistance cells in cities across the Grid, but they’re losing numbers too quickly. Everyone’s losing hope.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “She needs to capitalize on my being here. We don’t have the time to spare any more.”

We. Beck’s core lurched.

“You’re going with them.”

It wasn’t a question. Tron nodded anyway.

“I have to,” he said softly, “Yori is my partner. I can’t let her do this alone.”

Even though he and Beck both knew that the outcome to this would be very different for Tron. Whereas Clu would derezz the others to the last, Tron would be captured, repurposed. Shoulders slumping, Beck reached out.

“Tron…”

Tron sighed heavily and shook his head. 

“You don’t have to come with us,” He said, eyes still closed and so he didn’t see Beck draw back in startled hurt. “I’ll understand if you…if you think the cost is too high. No one would think any less of you if you decided to go now.”

Go where, Beck almost asked, the thought nearly hysterical. Argon was gone, Mara intended to stay, Zed would stay with Mara, and Paige…he shook his head. Maybe Cyrus had been lying, maybe he’d called them offshoots in just an attempt to rattle both Beck and Tron, but whether it was the truth or not didn’t matter anymore. Regardless of their code, shared or otherwise, Tron was his friend, his teacher. Beck wouldn’t abandon him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He said, startling Tron into looking up. He smiled faintly. “Whatever happens next, I chose to come back and fight, remember? You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Tron was silent for nearly half a micro, before he sighed so heavily Beck was surprised he stayed on his feet.

“No,” he whispered with a tiny smile at the corner of his lips, “I guess I’m not. I shouldn’t be surprised you’re this stubborn, should I?”

“It’s in my code.” Beck shrugged. He drew back his arm as Tron flinched. “I mean— _my_ code, not—Cyrus was lying about that whole offshoot thing.” Wasn’t he? Beck dropped his hands. “I’m sure it didn’t mean anything so don’t worry about it—”

“That’s the thing,” Tron shook his head. He met Beck’s eyes a nano later. “He was telling the truth.”

His processors screeching to a halt he was sure was audible, Beck blinked. 

“What?”

With a gesture for Beck to follow, Tron sat down with such grace and fluidity of movement some part of Beck still couldn’t believe it had barely been two triples since he’d been healed. Once both were seated, Tron cross legged across from Beck with his knees drawn up to his chest, Tron took in a deep breath and let it out. His eyes grew distant as he spoke.

"Five hundred cycles ago,” He began, “when the ISOs first started to come to shore, the Grid wasn't in the best shape. Flynn was busy with the User world, and Clu needed more help than I could give him. We both asked Flynn for some help, programs that could support us, keep the Grid in working order, code new parts if we needed them, and he said he’d do his best.” He spread his hands as he spoke, but his eyes remained focused on that distant point somewhere in his past, “He didn't have time to code an entirely new program, so he..."

"Pulled code from you,” Beck finished, “To make me and Cyrus."

Tron nodded. "I'm not sure how much. We didn't have a chance to talk about it before the Coup." Tron shook his head. “I knew _of_ you both, but not who you were, or where you were before things went sideways. Afterwards, I wasn’t exactly in the best shape to go looking.”

Obviously. But…had he known who they were afterwards? Had he thought of it? Thought that two programs wandering into his runtime out of nowhere couldn’t be a coincidence? Unable to find the words for the thought, Beck went for another one instead.

“Did Cyrus find you like I did? Just…out of nowhere?”

“No,” Tron shook his head, “Cyrus rescued me from Dyson. Threw off repurposing to do it.” He looked up at the ceiling with those same distant eyes. “He’s the one who coded most of the Spire.”

“And coded his entire prison cell into a neon nightmare. _And_ made a gigantic bomb.” Beck huffed, resting his chin on his knees. Tron screwed up his face like he’d just downed an entire canister of bad energy.

“He always had a flair for the dramatic, but he could do things with code…” He shook his head. “He had an architect’s touch. He could build amazing things out of nothing.” He looked down, looking at the spaces between his fingers as if that emptiness held all the answers. “I still don’t know what happened to him. What made him change.”

Beck had an idea. He shivered, the thought more snow down his spine.

“Could it have been Clu?” He asked quietly, wanting to take the words back a nano later as Tron’s render desaturated sharply. He forced himself to continue, “I mean—you said he threw off being repurposed, right? If Clu did that to him, what would have stopped him from putting some time-delay viral or something into his code, too?” He spread his hands, shoulders up by his ears. “It would make sense, in case he ever lost control of Cyrus.”

Tron was silent, but Beck could hear his processor whirring a kilometer a nano all the same. He waited silently for Tron to get his thoughts back in order, staring at his feet. Cyrus had started out as an Architect, became a soldier, and then somehow ended up the fragged program Beck knew him to be. In the span of five hundred cycles, he’d gone so far off his directive he probably couldn’t even see it anymore.

Beck could relate. 

“…That makes far too much sense,” Tron said suddenly, causing Beck to look up. “And it would be something Clu would do. Take out any problems before they could escalate. If you and Cyrus had been designed to help us, then…” He looked back down at Beck, finally present once more. “You could have done a lot of damage together.”

And wasn’t that a thought. Beck frowned. Was that what Cyrus had been after, back in Argon? He’d almost clung to the idea of Beck coming to work with him, both before Clu’s arrival and after it. It was as if that was all that kept Cyrus going now, the sheer need to destroy everything around him just so his core would stop screaming.

Maybe Beck could relate a little too well. He wrapped his arms around his knees and held them tighter.

“That doesn’t explain how I got away unscathed, though.” Beck stared at his hands. “If we came from the same place, the same code, how come I didn’t end up like Cyrus?”

“I’m not really sure. Yori and I think Able had something to do with it, but…” Tron leaned forward, hands on his knees. “What’s the first thing you can remember?”

His first memory? He closed his eyes, thinking back. Every program had one first clear memory in the fog of their first cycle, usually of their resolution onto the system. Beck’s…there was a flash of light, the sound of waves and some voices, but then…

“Able.” He shook his head. “My first memory is Able. He was…telling me my name and designation in the Garage. Said it was my job to fix bikes and he’d…take care of the rest.”

“Of course,” Tron said with a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sigh. “Of course he’d say something like that. He was always trying to fix things.”

“It _was_ his directive.” One he’d had no trouble following, right to the bitter end. Beck forced down the thought and looked up. “But he never said how he met you, or Yori. Was he a friend of yours?”

“One of few programs I could actually call a friend in the Capitol.” Tron leaned back a little, the distant look returning to his eyes. “He ran a garage out there, too.” Fondness flashed across Tron’s face for a moment as he said, “He yelled at me when I brought in my broken bike once. Said I couldn’t be much of a protector if I kept wrecking my own bike. We just hit it off, I suppose.”

Beck loosened his grip on his knees, huffing out a small laugh. “Sounds like Able. He never cared about who you were or what your assignment was: if you brought in a broken anything, he’d just…”

“Give you this really hard look like you were the dumbest bit this side of the Portal?” Tron finished, that same fond look still on his face. When Beck nodded and waved a hand in a sawing motion, he laughed just a little. Then he looked back down at Beck and said in a soft, proud tone: “He’d be proud of you, you know. You and the others. For having come so far.”

For doing the right thing, Beck thought to himself as warmth uncoiled in his core. Able had done the right thing. He’d done the best he could in an explosively bad situation, and in doing so, had saved his friends. Now, five hundred cycles later, Beck had a chance to do the same. He wasn’t going to waste that. Taking a deep breath, he let go of his knees and slowly stretched out.

“Got farther to go still,” He said firmly, “If we’re going to retake the Capitol.”

Something almost like fear flashed across Tron’s face, but it was gone a nano later and he nodded.

“Then we’d better get back to your training. You still need to practice that throw I’ve been trying to teach you, remember?”

Oh, Beck remembered. He remembered being thrown right over Tron’s shoulder more than once in demonstration. His fading patches ached in protest before he could even move to stand, but he laughed all the same.

“Then it’s a good thing," He nudged Tron with his foot. "That I got your stubbornness."

"Oh, no," Tron replied with a half smirk as he stood up, offering a hand to Beck, "that is _all_ you."

Beck grinned and took Tron’s hand.

\--

A kilometer outside of Lithium, a single program stopped on a hill. He looked at the glimmering city with its bright high rises and darkened alleyways, the dozens of hapless programs visible as specks of light to his senses.

And, deeper below, the two bright sparks he’d been tracing all this way across the Outlands. This time, they wouldn’t get away from him. This time, he’d show them who was really the strongest, who really deserved to carry on the name.

Circuits flickering a viral yellow, fractal lines carving down his torso from his missing arm, Cyrus smiled.

This was going to be fun.


	12. 00110001 00110010

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Paige flinched, looking at Quorra as the Iso peeled herself from the wall. The system downcycle meant the hallways were nearly empty this far into the Undercity, half of the Resistance asleep and the other half hard at work, so there was no buffer between Paige and Quorra as she walked closer. For a couple of nanos Paige contemplated backing up, returning to the medic station just behind her, but that would be a whole other dumpster fire of problems.

“I’ve been busy,” She finally said, cursing how her voice wavered. The truth was, she _had_ been avoiding Quorra almost like a Viral. It hadn’t been overly difficult; they hadn’t been here long and they had all been busy, but now…now she had to face the catalyst for her friends being gone and she just didn’t know how to feel about that. She looked away as Quorra tilted her head.

“In the Medic Station?” She sighed as if she knew Paige was lying, “Edison is off-shift and Eniac keeps telling you to put down for a sleep-cycle,” Quorra retorted, hands on her hips. “You _are_ avoiding me.”

“It’s not like we have much to talk about,” Paige moved to shoulder past Quorra. Quorra stepped aside instead, letting her walk for a few paces before she called out,

“I’m sorry,” Her voice echoed through the quiet hallway. Paige stopped in her tracks. Quorra continued, “For what happened to your friends.” When Paige turned to look over her shoulder, Quorra’s hands had gone limply to her sides even as she held her position. “If I’d known what would happen I’d have taken us somewhere else.”

If. If if if. If only and would have and could have and—Paige heaved out an aggrieved sigh. She wasn’t the only one with doubts, it seemed. Or a past that haunted her. She looked at Quorra, at her sad frost blue eyes, the soft turn of her lips, and then shook her head.

“It’s over and done,” She said, “And it wasn’t your fault. Not…” She looked down at her hands, the sleeves that had once been lined with red circuitry. Green pulsated back at her as she continued, “Not really. I know that now.”

Quorra took a step towards her, then another, and another after that until her hands seemed to appear from nothing, clasping around Paige’s wrist. Paige looked up as a tentative [ _friend_ ] pinged down her arm, looked into frost blue eyes, and finally realized that they really weren’t that different after all. Quorra had been trying to protect herself, her friends, and had been hunted for it. Paige was the same now, even if they were coded entirely differently. Slowly, she reached up with her other hand to rest it on Quorra’s. Before she could stop herself, Paige pinged a return [ _friend_ ] down the steadily glowing circuit on Quorra’s arm.

Quorra beamed at her. 

“I’m glad,” She said happily, letting go of Paige’s hand a moment later. Now shoulder to shoulder the pair walked aimlessly down the hall in a surprisingly easy silence as they headed towards the Command Center and the bunks beyond it. Paige really did need to put down for a sleep, and it was rare to see Quorra not at Yori’s side if she was in the Undercity at all. They turned a corner into the slightly more full hallway, and Paige looked sideways at her companion.

“What happened to your friend?”

“Do you mean Ada?” Quorra sighed a little. “She was derezzed a few cycles after we left Gallium. I might be the actual last of us now." Quorra sighed, looking down the hall as if staring into her past. Paige shifted awkwardly, opening her mouth to apologize for bringing her up, but Quorra shook her head and shook off the moment before looking to Paige. “That’s another reason why Clu has to be stopped. What’s to stop him from turning on the rest of you, too?”

“Not much,” Paige frowned as she grabbed onto the change in subject with both hands, “He almost derezzed my old General for failing to catch Beck. Seems to me he doesn’t have the programs to spare to be doing that often.”

“No…” Quorra’s voice had gone pensive. Paige looked at her, but she was frowning at something Paige would likely never see, eyes distant again. “No, he doesn’t.” She looked at Paige. “If he goes around taking out his own top level soldiers, he’ll have to promote and then repurpose others to make up for the lack of numbers. Basic numbers aren’t so high anymore for him to go around doing that.”

“Which means,” Paige caught on, “That if we can push him to make that final play—”

“We can have him cornered.” Quorra finished with a vicious little smile crossing her face. Paige returned the gesture, only to turn as a shout caused them to look up and down the hall. Quorra smirked a bit more kindly this time.

"Sounds like Tron got to Beck." She turned to look at Paige. "You should go make sure your partner isn't in over his head."

Paige blinked. Then she stepped back, hands up. "Beck isn't my partner program!" She hissed in protest. Quorra's smirk got a little wider as she quirked a brow. "He's not!"

"Sure." Quorra shrugged innocently, "I believe you."

Paige growled. Quorra hid a laugh behind her hand and turned to leave. She stopped suddenly before turning the corner, however, and looked back over her shoulder.

"...You're good together, Paige.” Her eyes went soft, and she smiled gently. “Partners or not, that's important."

Then she was gone, heading back to the Command Center. Paige turned to look at the nearby doorway which lead to one of the makeshift Resistance training rooms, another shout echoing through the halls, before she let all her air out in a whoosh.

Then she stepped towards the door.

-

"What are they doing?" Mara asked, watching as Tron ducked under Beck's punch, then sidestepped and looped an arm around his neck to toss him. Standing in the entryway to the makeshift training room, Paige shrugged.

"Same thing we were planning to do: training." They watched as Beck fluidly rolled to his feet, then came in low. Tron had to jump back over the kick aimed at his ankles, and Beck followed after in hot pursuit. Any opening Mara could see, Beck was on before she even realized they were there. Tron closed most up before his young apprentice could reach them, but some...

Some Beck actually got to. Mara whistled low as Beck grabbed Tron by the arm, tossing him over his shoulder with a heave and short cry. Tron caught himself with one hand skidding across the makeshift training room floor, but Paige seemed impressed.

"He's good." She said as Beck continued to fight, not even out of breath. "Really good."

"No kidding..."

It was like he’d been built for this, Mara realized as she watched him hop-step back away from a roundhouse kick, turning Tron’s momentum against him a nano later. He’d been built to fight, not tune up engines, and the fact that it had taken her so long to realize that made her core lurch. She looked down at her hands.

"Can we talk?" Mara asked, core lurching harder as she saw Paige turn to look at her. "It's about what happened to Pavel. I..." She closed her eyes, "I never hurt anyone like that before, never derezzed anyone before, and I don't know who to talk to because Zed is working his way through it and Beck never has and Tron and Yori are---" She made an aborted gesture with both hands, words ending in an explosive sigh.

"Tron and Yori?" Paige finished for her, "Old System codebase?"

"Yeah."

"Sure,” Paige glanced up at Beck and Tron, still neck deep in it, then settled a hand on Mara’s shoulder to guide her away. “Let's get you a drink first."

A drink or five later, Mara leaned on the balcony of one of the resistance apartments, half-empty glass of energy in hand as the pair of them looked out across Lithium. The glittering high rises kept drawing her attention, which she supposed was the point. It was a city of excess, filled with General Ion and his cronies, while the honest programs suffered down below. Yori had said that most of the Dark Side’s programs were a part of the Resistance, and she couldn’t blame them for that choice. 

She did, however, sigh and stare into her glass a moment later.

“I just,” She began for what had to be the fifteenth time, still unable to find the words. “I know I did what I had to, but that doesn’t make it easier.”

Standing beside her, Paige held back her bangs with one hand as the wind kicked up. For a handful of nanos she was silent, but then she shook her head and let her hair go to clutch at the rail with both hands.

“Don’t,” She said firmly, “Let it get any easier. Pavel was fragged, but even he was worth something.”

“He was trying to derezz you.” Mara whispered, “He tried to derezz all of us.”

“I never said he was worth _much_ , just….something.” Paige sighed into the quiet. “Look, I.” She looked at Mara almost helplessly, I’m not good at this…talking programs through things anymore. Maybe I never was.” She shook her head. “But you did what you had to do, to defend yourself and programs that were relying on you. If that doesn’t help you go into sleep mode, nothing ever will.”

Mara hissed in frustration. 

“How can you be so calm about this?! He was your—”

“He tried to have me derezzed. He had a program put a bug in my code.” Paige said coolly. “He tried to get _Beck_ derezzed. If you think I’m losing any recharge over him being gone, I really need to check your processor for faults.”

Mara looked up at her, meeting steady brown eyes. Paige held her gaze for a long micro, then looked away, eyes on Lithium’s Dark Side.

“I used to be a Medic, Mara,” She said in a softer tone, “I know that even the fragged programs are important. But so is the system, and sometimes…” She took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Sometimes, you have to take out an infected portion of code before the rest can start to heal."

Mara tightened her grip on her glass. “Like a reformat,” She hissed. Paige grimaced as if she’d swallowed bad energy, but nodded.

“Like a reformat,” She confirmed, “They’re just generally more…”

“Announced?”

“Needed.” Paige sighed, leaning her weight on the guard rail. “Dyson called for the reformat without an actual reason. I think he was scared of something in the city.” She cocked her head to the side. “Or someone.”

Mara looked back up at the high rises.

“You mean Tron.” She had to violently squash down the thought that all of this was his fault. Logically, she knew the blame rested with Dyson and Clu; they were the ones making the decisions that affected all the programs below them. Tron was as much a victim of Argon’s destruction as Mara or Zed or Beck. Maybe even more so, given that his base had been outside the city limits and had also been blown to pieces. Though Beck still hadn’t told her why he’d joined up with Tron, the idea that _Tron_ needed a beta-mechanic from the edge of nowhere…he’d probably been hurt. Had Dyson or Clu done that to him? She just couldn’t say. The thoughts lodged in her processor and with a groan she raked a hand through her hair. “Is it weird I can’t blame him for being scared?”

“Tron can be pretty intimidating,” Paige said, “But he fights dirty.” She smirked as Mara looked at her with wide eyes. “Catch him off guard and he goes down as easily as any other program.”

“You fought Tron?!” Mara squeaked. Paige’s smirk widened. She opened her mouth to answer--

"Hey," Beck's voice broke in behind them. They both turned to see him at the doorway, hands bracing him on the frame. "Yori's called a meeting. You two need to come downstairs."

Mara looked back to Paige. Her smirk had gone nowhere, but rather than answer she gestured with her head towards Beck. Then she had the audacity to laugh as Mara pouted, shoving the half-full glass into her hands. That only made her laugh harder and Mara turned to stomp away. Beck reached out as she came to the door, brow furrowed and eyes full of concern that he pinged up and down her arm in a [ _query_ ] that made her sigh. She put a hand on his and nodded.

“I’m fine,” She said, though it was clear neither really believed that to be true. Paige’s heels clicked behind her as Mara smiled softly and pulled away, heading down the stairs. A murmur of their voices started up behind her, and as she turned the corner she saw him take Paige’s hand, that same warmth still in his eyes.

Maybe he had changed, Mara realized with a start that made her pause, watching Paige smile and not pull away from Beck, but he was still the same program at his core. That was enough for her.

Her smile widened, just a little, and Mara strode down the stairs without looking back.

—

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Zed said with his hands up by his chest, “You’re saying that we have to march on Clu right _now_?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Yori replied, tablet tucked beneath her arm. “This is the first time he’s been out of Tron City for this long in over fifty cycles, and the Sirens are already moving,” Yori said, tapping something on the holo-table until a map of the Grid appeared. Dozens of glowing white lines were converging on the capitol from every direction, while occupation red ate away at the points they had left behind. “We’re a good triple of hard riding away from Tron City. We’ll have to leave soon to meet up with any of them.”

Standing next to Zed across the table from Beck, Tron, and Paige, Mara shook her head.

“Clu’s going to see them coming,” She said softly, “He’ll just derezz them before they get there.”

“Not,” Quorra said from her place next to Yori, “If we get there ahead of him,” She tapped at the table, bringing up an additional layer to the map, a yellow dot manifesting to represent Clu’s convoy. “It’s been a triple since Argon was destroyed. Even if Clu left at that nano instead of checking for survivors, he’s still got a good three thousand kilometers of storms to cross through.” She looked up at Tron through the holographic storm clouds. “We _can_ make it ahead of him, and I know a program who can get a small group of us into the Admin Tower.”

“It’s a risk we have to take,” Yori said before Tron could protest. “There’s no longer any way to tell them not to go for it. We’re committed to the action.”

And to their deresolutions if they failed, Beck realized. He looked around the room, taking in the resigned looks on the face of each Resistance aligned program. On his other side, Paige frowned deeply as their eyes met. Doubtless she was thinking the same thing he was:

If this didn’t work, Clu would win entirely. No one would ever stand against him again. Beck frowned, looking at the display once more. They were only going to get one shot at this.

“What happens after we get there?” He asked, looking at Yori, “Even if we take him down, that’s not going to stop his forces. And that’s a _lot_ of programs to deal with.”

“That is where you two come in,” Yori replied, dismissing the map of the Grid and bringing up a map of the Admin Tower instead. Fifty floors of glass sided high rise without a single emergency access way, and in fact there were only two lifts to reach the top at all, along with anti-aircraft guns installed at the top. The only way in was the front door. In short? It was a disaster waiting to happen. Beck screwed up his face as Yori continued, “There’s a terminal at the top of the Tower that can be used to issue commands to the entire army. All we’d need is Clu’s disk to access it.”

“Which means ripping it off his back.” Tron crossed his arms over his chest, weight shifting to one leg. “You’re going to be the distraction in the streets, getting his soldiers out of the tower so we can reach him.”

Yori shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not the most complicated of plans, but it’s our best option. We have to try.”

“And that’s not our only issue.” Quorra said, "Once Clu is taken down, there'll need to be a new System Administrator to take his place or the whole system could collapse." She and Yori looked to Tron in the same instant. Beck could feel him stiffen before he sensed the movement itself.

"Me--no." He shook his head and stepped back, away from the table. "No." Yori tilted her head as Tron looked at her with wide eyes. "No! I'm not Command-assigned!"

"And neither am I," She said not unkindly, "But Mara and Quorra are both far too young and inexperienced and Flynn is..." She screwed up her face as if she'd just downed bad energy, then settled with: "Unavailable. You're our best shot."

"Yori!" He hissed. Beck shifted his weight to his heels, watching warily as Yori stared Tron down.

"I could do it," Paige said suddenly. Everyone turned to stare at her, but she held her ground and shrugged. "I made Commander in the army before all of this. I know how to lead other programs."

Some of the Resistance programs turned to give her cold looks. A murmur started up, whispers Beck couldn’t quite catch, but Yori kept her eyes on Paige.

"Close to a billion of them?" She asked. Beck buried his face in the palm of one hand as Paige tilted her head...then slowly shrugged again.

"...Close to twenty thousand, but still." 

Yori shook her head. Before she could say anything, all the air in Tron’s intakes hissed out of him in a frame-rattling groan. He bent over at his waist, reaching to cling to the table. He looked like he was about to drop and derezz, circuits dim and flickering. Core lurching, Beck reached out to steady him.

"You can't," Tron said, voice hoarse "You're too young."

"What does that have to do with anything?” Paige asked, hands twitching at her sides as if to keep from reaching for Tron to offer medical assistance. His frame trembled beneath Beck’s hand; this idea was terrifying for him. Beck looked at Yori as she shook her head.

"The point I was getting at," Yori answered instead, clutching at her elbows, "is that Tron, Clu, and I are the oldest programs on the Grid. He and I are the only ones it'll accept as a replacement Admin once Clu is taken out. The rest of you…” She sighed heavily, then looked to Mara who stared back at her with wide eyes. “You’re still just far too young for the system to accept. And we don’t have the time to wait for you any longer.” She looked back to the display, eyes on the glowing white dot at the top of the tower. “If this doesn’t work, we won’t get a second chance.”

The room went quiet. Programs exchanged looks with one another, barely seeming to breathe, before looking at Tron. He stayed bent at the waist, clutching the table like a lifeline even as Yori reached out to rub his arm in an attempt at comfort. Core spinning up fast, Beck looked at her. There was only one question left to ask, then. He opened his mouth, only to jump and look up as an alarm began to blare, klaxon loud and lights flaring red all through the tunnels. Beck covered his ears.

“What is that?!” He shouted to be heard over the klaxon. Mouth parted, Yori shook her head.

“Someone’s trying to get into the tunnels.” She looked at a program standing by a terminal nearby, a screen reflecting blue-and-red light onto their face. “What’re we looking at?”

“I don’t know—looks like a program?” They squinted at the screen, shifting aside as Paige reached over and tried to zoom in on the single surveillance feed with little luck, “They got inside the South Garage already but—they might have lost an arm?”

Tron and Beck stiffened. Across the table, clinging to a wide-eyed Zed’s hands, Mara shook her head.

“No—it can’t be—”

Tron was already running. Yori called out for him, called for him to wait, but he didn’t even slow down. Beck took off in pursuit, heard Zed calling to Mara, heard her call back that they needed to all get out of the Undercity, but then they were running. Tron had already carved his own path through the programs scrambling beneath the still-going alarm, and Mara whistled sharply at the stragglers. With cries of shock or alarm they flattened themselves against walls or ducked into open doorways to get out of the way. It took almost half the way there to get to where Tron was ahead of them, shoving his way through a knot of programs milling about a small access hatch with their disks in hand. They joined in the shoving, a wordless look passing between Tron and Beck, and cleared the crowd in time for all of them to see a yellow-rimmed disk trying to slice its way through the hatch from the top.

Beck’s core lurched. He knew that disk.

He looked to Tron, needing to say something, needing to warn him, but Tron looked back at him in such a way that told Beck he already knew for sure who was waiting up there. Without a word, the old program turned to one of the resistance members, hand snapped out as he asked for a grenade. Without hesitation they pressed one to his palm and then pulled the rest of their fellows back as he primed it. A nano later he tossed it up hard and the three of them ducked as the little explosive blew clean through the hatch. There was a yell, a shout of alarm and a little pain, and then the three of them darted up through still smoking code. Beck reached back for his disk as they broke through to the surface and looked around, spinning on his heel until he caught sight of who he knew would be there.

A few meters away, just pushing himself up from a crouch but laughing despite the burn damage and pockmarks all down his front, Cyrus laughed.

—

For nearly a micro no one dared to move. Cyrus stood across the street from them, eyes wild, disk glowing overload bright, stump of his shoulder covered in viral yellow fractals and his remaining circuits edged in that same toxic color that Tron had seen only once before.

Somehow, in the short span of time between his escape in Argon and now, Cyrus had gone viral. Just the sight of him like that pulled hard on Tron’s core, his base programming demanding the removal of the virus no matter who it had been before, and he wasn’t inclined to ignore it. Not this time. A pace beside and behind him, Beck kicked his disk on. He shifted his weight, never taking his eyes off of Cyrus even as he spoke to Mara on his other side.

“Mara,” Beck whispered, “Get back downstairs.”

“Are you fragged?” She hissed violently, hair swooshing across her face, “And leave you two alone with _him_?”

“He’s gone Viral,” Tron said firmly before Beck could reply, “There’s no playing around with that. You’d only be in the way.”

He could see her flinch from the corner of his eye but didn’t look away from Cyrus as he started to laugh again. The sound was edged in hysteria, high and keening all around them. Beck grimaced and held his disk tighter. Tron reached for his, taking it into one hand and kicking it on. Mara stepped back but didn’t leave, didn’t retreat. 

Cyrus stopped laughing.

“H-hurts, doesn’t it?” His vocals caught and stuttered like a damaged recording as he continued, “Knowing that the g-great Tron thinks you’re a l-liablity.” He smirked, rubbing his throat despite the glowing disk in his hand. Beck tensed beside him. “See, I know how that feels.”

Mara said nothing for a nano, then seemed to puff up. She made to step forward only to crash right into Beck’s outstretched arm. He moved, turned to her, and the nano his back was even half turned Cyrus moved. He charged forward; Beck whirled back around as Mara shouted, but Tron was there first, disk clashing against disk in a wave of sparks.

“Get out of here!” Tron shouted breathlessly, unable to look back and trusting Beck to get Mara away; she wasn’t ready for this. Maybe she never would be. He grit his teeth and braced his stance. Despite having only one arm, Cyrus had a Viral’s raw power behind him now. Tron braced his wrist with his free hand, “Go!”

“Come on!” Beck shouted, and then Tron couldn’t hear them anymore. He had to focus on Cyrus, the younger program’s face so close he could trace each of those yellow tinged lines on it.

“I’m going to e-enjoy,” He smirked, all teeth and vile hatred, “derezzing you. Bit by bit. And then I-I’ll go for your precious little _Beck_.” He spat the name with such distaste that Tron’s core lurched. In another runtime, would Beck and Cyrus have been friends? Would they have had the chance to work together like Flynn intended? Or would they have ended up on opposite sides anyway? He just couldn’t say.

But he could say that he would have to be derezzed before he let Cyrus anywhere near Beck again. With a snarl, he shifted his weight.

“You’ll derezz before I let you touch him!”

He leaned back, kicked out with one foot, and sent Cyrus reeling back in near instinctive need to catch his breath. Tron didn’t let him, pursuing with wide slashes, driving him further and further back, away from the tunnel entrance, away from the others. Cyrus laughed, hopping back from each slash until he met Tron’s attack with one of his own, sending them both stumbling back from the ricochet. Tron grit his teeth as he was forced back on sudden defense, losing the ground he’d gained as Cyrus pressed his advantage. 

But what Cyrus had in raw strength he lacked in tactics, in clear thought. He raised his disk and charged with a yell, only to go wildly past his target as Tron quickly stepped aside. The old program leapt back and tossed his disk in a wide arc, forcing Cyrus back another pace. Tron leapt, caught his disk, threw it again. Cyrus snarled at him, flipping backwards over the glowing arc that was Tron’s disk, and Tron was on him as he landed. The empty streets made for a nearly perfect funnel away from the Undercity entrance, empty of all programs. Tron refused to contemplate if they’d had the foresight to get while the getting was good after hearing his grenade go off, or if Cyrus had done something to them.

There’d be time to think of that afterwards, when they weren’t fighting in a four way intersection. 

Cyrus charged him again, and once more Tron stepped aside. He reached out to grab Cyrus by the shoulders in preparation for a toss, for the move he’d spent so long teaching Beck to use but then—viral code burned his hands. His systems immediately went into damage control and quarantine modes. With a gasp Tron stumbled back, completely exposed and open to attack as his balance module scrambled, and failed, to keep him on his feet. He fell to his knees. Cyrus cackled, raising his disk—only to go flying as a truck crashed right into him and sent him bouncing down the street. Tron looked up, eyes wide as Mara leaned out of the driver’s side window and glared at the viral program picking himself up off the road, hand still on the wheel.

“That was for Able, you glitching piece of malware!” She shouted as Beck jumped down from the passenger side, disk overload bright in his hand even as he ran to help Tron back to his feet, “Stay down and make this easy for once!”

“When does he make anything easy,” Beck hissed, taking Tron by the arm and hauling him to his feet from where he’d fallen.

“I told you to go!” He swayed, balance system blaring warnings at him even as it tried to reboot. Beck held him upright with both hands, looking over his shoulder at Cyrus.

“Since when do I do anything you tell me to?” Beck asked, though there was no time to give him even a hint of an answer. Cyrus had gotten back to his feet and was coming at them at full speed. Beck let go of Tron’s arm and planted himself in front of Tron, unwilling to go anywhere or to even consider saving himself. Tron’s core lurched, dropping to his feet. He reached forward, ready to shove Beck clear out of the way, only to have to pull him back instead as Mara revved the engine of the truck and shot it forward in a single, graceless lurch.

Cyrus was ready this time. Just as Tron’s balance module finally reboot itself the rogue program jumped up onto the engine block, disk in hand, and shattered the view-screen in a single crushing blow. His disk caught in the dashboard as Mara shrieked, grabbing the painter tool off her thigh and turning it on full blast. Blinded by bright code directly in his eyes Cyrus stumbled back with a yell, clawing at his own face to get it off. He carved furrows across his nose and forehead, and when he looked up with wild eyes there was nothing but rage in them. Mara scrambled away, falling from the driver’s seat to land on her hands and knees, trying to stumble to her feet for a few paces, but then Beck was there and reaching down to pull her up--

“Halt, Program!”

Occupation. Tron spun on his heel, helmet clicking up in response to the secondary threat. Someone must have summoned the military, or they’d seen the commotion, but either way that didn’t change the fact that there was a squad of red-lined sentries headed straight for them. Beck shouted a “Oh come on!” into the air as he grabbed Mara and hauled her to her feet, the two of them also having rezzed their helmets to protect their identities. Beck pulled a still stumbling Mara away as Cyrus wrenched his disk out of the dashboard, but before Tron could get to him he’d already leapt…straight at the squad. They didn’t even have time to shout.

“You’re in my way!” Cyrus yelled, voice rasping and loud enough to rattle code. For a few nanos, Tron couldn’t move. It was like watching someone step on Grid-Bugs, how easily Cyrus carved through the programs he faced.

No, Tron realized, not like that. It was like watching footage of _himself_ from before the Coup, when all he’d needed to do was defend the Grid, when his entire directive was that sole purpose. Cyrus was driven by a single-cored purpose: destroy.

“What’s he doing? I thought he was here for us?” Beck asked suddenly, almost appearing from thin air at Tron’s side. Tron looked at him for a nano, then turned his attention back to Cyrus. The lead Blackguard was trying to hold him off with a long staff, but Cyrus was giving him no time to use it properly. 

“He’s lost all rational thought,” Tron replied, “That’s what happens when someone goes Viral, Beck,” He narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight. “It’s worse than being a Stray.”

Certainly more violent. With a horrible scream the Blackguard went down, derezzed by a disk to the throat. Behind him there was one Sentry left, running for his runtime with Cyrus in pursuit. More yellow fractal lines had appeared on his frame, carving down his torso. The Virus in his code was spreading. If the Virus spread then Lithium would be subject to a reformat, too. Tron couldn’t let that happen. 

Before Beck could stop him or move himself, Tron charged at Cyrus, throwing his disk in a wide arc that forced his former apprentice back in a long flip away from the escaping sentry. That this meant the Occupation and Lithium’s General would know they were here meant little to Tron in that moment: all that mattered was containing and destroying the Virus before it could spread. He leapt to catch his disk, spinning in mid-jump to throw it again, only to stop and nearly miss his landing.

From one of the derezzed sentries, Cyrus had collected a bandoleer of grenades. The red code flickered once to yellow, then back to red, then yellow again. They all flickered on to their countdown start. Tron took in a hissing breath as Cyrus laughed, long and hard. The bandoleer of grenades beeped in a steady, overbearing unison down from five. Tron grabbed Beck by the arm, pulling him away. He didn’t even stumble, quickly falling into step and beginning to run for cover. Mara, hidden behind the truck, reached out for them both.

Four. Cyrus stopped laughing. Tron looked back over his shoulder.

Three. Their eyes met, and for half a nano Tron could see the program he’d been, the hope he’d become. Then it was gone and Cyrus smirked.

Two. Tron and Beck fell to their knees by Mara’s side; Tron pulled the two mechanics in and covered their ports with his frame.

One.

“Boom.”

In a single explosion, the grenades went off. Blue energy fire reached into the airspace above the Dark Side, casting the street into a light so bright it could have competed with the High Rises, the truck’s shadow a stark black on the road beneath it. The shockwave came two nanos later, shattering windows and rattling the truck hard, sending it creaking and wobbling like it was going to fall on them any nano. But it stayed up even as Tron’s audio inputs went hard into a ringing keen so loud he could hear nothing else. He had to rely on his visuals; Beck and Mara seemed as rattled as he was, but were otherwise unharmed. Slowly, he stood up and made his way to the cabin of the truck. Through the broken windows, he could see where Cyrus had been just a handful of nanos ago.

Where Cyrus had stood was nothing more than a hole in the ground, buildings scorched and a recycle bin on fire. Programs were starting to come out from the Undercity access-ways, doubtlessly calling for a way to put the fire out before it spread, but Tron didn’t bother moving to join them. His core twisted as he shook his head, staring at the empty space. Beck came up beside him, but didn’t say a word.

Cyrus was gone. Tron could only hope that, at least now, he could find some peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edison (the Medic from the two earlier chapters) named for Thomas Edison. Eniac (unseen, first shift medic for the Resistance) named for the ENIAC System, one of the earliest general purpose computing systems. Made in 1944, actually, so Flynn would have heard about that one!


	13. 00110001-00110011

“Don’t try to be gentle about this, Eniac,” Tron said, sitting on the medical table in the Undercity’s small medical station. Yori sat at his side, holding his hand as Beck kept watch, leaning against the wall by the door. Programs ran about just outside, scrambling to deconstruct the entire base in the short time they had left before the Occupation came down on them. Beck had known Tron long enough to see through his almost easy posture, to see his free hand clutching at his knee, the lines around his eyes, and knew that he wasn’t the only one in the room worried about this. “Did any Viral get into my code?”

“No. Your firewall was clearly well coded,” Eniac said in her quiet voice, scrolling through Tron’s source code with a practiced hand. Beck watched, core in his throat, as Eniac continued: “I’m not seeing a hint of Viral code having gotten through it.” She handed Tron back his disk, though rather than dock it he held it in one hand. Her eyes softened. “Thank your User, I suppose, because we’re going to need you to get through this intact.”

“Yes, we are.” Yori sighed as Eniac left the room, long dark braid swinging behind her, to aid in clearing the space. “But there is one thing I need to know.” She leaned back enough to look Tron in the eyes and asked, “How sure are we that Cyrus is gone?” Tron and Beck exchanged a glance for a moment, but before either could speak both looked up as Paige entered the room, Zed and Mara at her heels.

“Unless he could survive a blast that made a three meter wide crater?” Zed sighed, “He’s gone. Long gone.”

“Like we should be,” Paige grumbled as she came to stand beside Beck, arms crossed over her chest. She gave him a sideways look and then turned to Yori, “If we don’t move up that timetable, we’re going to get caught down here. I can’t tell you how many programs will derezz if Ion gets his hands on them.”

“Is he that bad?” Mara asked softly, tugging on her fingers. Like Beck, she hadn’t been hurt by Cyrus or his blast. Like Beck, she was also still more than a little rattled by the milli’s events. Zed put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close.

“Worse,” Paige and Yori said in unison. The pair shared a look, before Yori shook her head. A distant look came into her eyes as she stared at the floor. Tron squeezed her hand, but it seemed to Beck no one could find the words and actually give the order. The room went silent for nearly half a micro, the only sounds their breathing and the rush in the halls outside. For a moment, if he ignored that, Beck could pretend they hadn’t almost been blown to bits and bytes. If he tried, he could convince himself that the distance coming into Tron’s eyes was that of remembering better times, not of a near-Viral scare that had made him pull away from Beck and Mara so quickly he’d almost fallen right over again. 

“Then,” Mara’s voice broke into Beck’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present moment, “Paige is right,” She said firmly as all eyes came to rest on her, “We may not be entirely ready, but when are we going to get a better chance?” She pulled away from Zed, walking towards Tron and Yori. Beck could see the tense line of her shoulders, her fists clenched at her sides, and the concern in the frown on Yori’s face as she continued, “We have to take the shot.” 

Yori looked at Mara for a handful of nanos, then looked to Tron. For a handful of nanos, neither said a word. They looked at each other with ancient eyes, saying things he’d never begin to understand in just that one glance, before Yori nodded. Tron’s shoulders slumped as she hopped off the table.

“We leave within the next sixteenth.” Yori said. She squeezed Tron’s hand again, then strode away from her partner. She headed to the door into the rush, shoulders straight and head held high. “Mara, Paige, with me. Zed, head to the garage and cobble together whatever you can with Avery; I want every program with a baton by the end of the sixteenth.”

Zed hissed through his teeth but turned on his heel, muttering about how there wasn’t enough code in the building for that kind of task even as he headed out the door a pace ahead of Yori. Paige squeezed Beck’s arm, then headed out with Mara at Yori’s heels. The door whooshed quietly shut behind them, leaving Beck alone with Tron still seated on the medical table, staring at his disk resting on his lap. Beck shifted his weight.

“You okay?” He asked, then grimaced to himself. That was a stupid question; they both knew what Virals meant to Tron. Beck was honestly a little surprised he was still actively functional. Or, at least, appeared to be so. Tron was silent for a few nanos longer before he took in a deep breath and finally docked his disk.

“Fine,” He said in a voice that was not fine at all. “But we need to talk about that stunt you pulled up there.”

Stunt? Beck frowned, confused. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked as Tron looked up, “That thing with the truck?”

“Yes, that thing with the truck,” Tron hissed. Beck stiffened. “The next time I tell you to go, you go.” Tron’s eyes were hard as he continued, “This isn’t Argon anymore, Beck. You can’t expect to disobey orders and get away intact.”

“And leave you without back-up?” Beck raised an eyebrow, trying not to back down in the face of that stern look, “In case you missed it, Cyrus almost had your head back there. And don’t—” He raised a hand, “Say you would have been fine. You were on the ground. If we didn’t get involved, you’d have been derezzed.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Tron replied. Beck’s core lurched hard.

“Well it’s one that I’m _not_.” He shot back, startling Tron into silence. Beck took a deep breath, trying to ignore how it shuddered. Tron could handle himself. He knew that. They both knew that. But even with the triples behind them, Beck couldn’t quite shake off the image of Tron’s collapsing form in the Spire, and to see him at Cyrus’ mercy…the image stuck in his processor, Beck shook his head. “Besides, I’m not some helpless Beta fresh off his rez.” Beck frowned, “I can usually handle myself.”

“Dyson.”

“ _Usually_ ,” Beck stressed with a narrow-eyed look. He swallowed a comment about how Tron hadn’t fared so well against Dyson, either, and instead lowered his hands to his sides. “You trained me to handle things like this, to take down soldiers, to protect others.” He pushed off from the wall, taking a step closer, “And that hasn’t changed. Even with all of this—” He waved a hand towards the doorway, where the rush of programs had become a white noise hum beyond the closed door, “We’re still a team. I’m not going to abandon you, even if you tell me to.”

“And if ends up with you derezzed?” Tron asked in a small voice. Beck drew up short, a realization shocking his core. They were the same. Tron wasn’t angry, he was _afraid_. Afraid of losing Beck the same way he must have lost nearly everyone else, the same way he could still lose Yori. Beck had lost Bodhi and Able, not to mention Argon, but Tron had lost all his old friends, his old team, a large chunk of his runtime to his unhealing injuries…Beck couldn’t blame him for being afraid, even if the thought of Tron so very scared made him want to quake in his boots right then and there.

But he couldn’t. Taking a deep breath, Beck closed the gap between them.

“Hey,” Beck hopped up onto the medical table, nudging Tron’s arm with his elbow, “Whatever happens, I _chose_ to come back and fight, remember? However this ends, it’s still my choice.” He smiled, just a little, as Tron looked sideways at him. “Seriously, it’s not like you dragged me kicking and screaming.”

Tron snorted, hands clutching at his knees.

“I should have let Able drag you kicking and screaming away from all of this.” He shook his head, staring distantly at something for a moment before turning back to look Beck in the eye. “You might regret that choice, you know. I can’t see this ending well.”

A hundred programs against Clu and his army? Beck couldn’t either. Even so…

“Still my choice,” He said firmly as the pair of them hopped off the table. He reached up to clasp Tron’s shoulder for a moment, pinging a [ _calm_ ] down his arm before letting go. “Come on. Before Yori comes back and asks what the hold up is about.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of her.”

“She’s scarier than you are!”

Tron just laughed, through the sound was tired. Still Beck smiled to himself as they stepped out into the hall, but then there was no time to talk and barely any time to think. Programs had no choice but to flee the Undercity in droves, head into the Outlands and the Capitol beyond. Screens were shattered, terminals destroyed so no data could be recovered from them. The makeshift Garage was emptied of all vehicles, and the Resistance, with Yori and Quorra at its head, left Lithium for the Outlands before the sixteenth was over. Red bled into the Dark Side on their heels, the Occupation forces having finally reached their mark, but no one was around to be found. By then they were already riding hard over dark stone and through storms so fierce the wind nearly blew them off their bikes. For a hard triple they rode, crossing kilometers and barely stopping for sips from a communal energy canister to keep riding. Some programs, too exhausted to continue, had to ride double and enter sleep mode on the back of a trusted partner.

Beck couldn’t blame them; even the ride to Gallium had never been this long, this tiring, this stressful. But then, nothing so important had ever hinged on a ride to Gallium. If they failed here, if they were derezzed, then the Grid would never be free. 

They had to make it, somehow.

Tron City appearing over the horizon late in the downcycle roused everyone’s mood, the Resistance coming to a halt in a deep canyon not too far from the city’s western entrance. Other cells were already there, the milling crowd of black-suited renegades and rebels pockmarked with the gleaming white suits of their guiding Sirens. Yori slipped into the crowd like she belonged there, Quorra at her side, while Tron remained on the edge with Beck. He stared over the crowd; there must have been over a thousand there already, with more appearing over the hills and rises from every direction across the Outlands. 

“Mara! Zed! Beck!” A familiar voice suddenly shouted. Crouched by her bike, Mara shot to her feet and turned on her heel. 

“Ray!” Mara shouted. She took off at a run up a nearby hill, then laughed as their old friend tossed herself forward, the two of them meeting in a tangle of limbs and breathless joy. Beck watched for a moment, then looked up to see the rest of his former coworkers all piling over the hill. It was hard to count at first, the mass of helmeted heads blending together, but a micro or two later Beck heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

They’d all made it here in one piece. They were all still functional.

He looked up as Zed shouted, nearly knocked right over as Bartik and Hopper went at him with gusto, and had to swallow a laugh. He looked over the crowd a micro longer before tilting his head as he noticed a small detail he hadn’t seen while counting them before. 

Every single one of them were in their blacks, but each and every one of them bore Tron’s mark on their chests. Their assignment accents were the same as ever, but the emblem was repeated nearly sixty times over. Tron was stiff beside Beck, staring at each of them in turn. He looked as Beck shifted his weight, boot scuffing against the stone as he gestured to the milling crowd in the distance.

“Think they’re all wearing that?”

Tron snapped his head to look over the larger crowd in the canyon, shoulders tense. It was impossible to read his face through his darkened visor, but his voice was thready, unsteady.

“I hope not…” He almost whispered, then seemed to shake himself, “They’ll get noticed in a nano if they keep it.”

“It does have that effect on programs,” Beck snarked, earning himself a wry snort from Tron. Calling it a win he turned around to stare at the city for a long moment. The lights of the Capitol, the city that shared Tron’s name, gleamed in the dark of the downcycle, just waiting for them to finally make a move. Beck shifted his weight.

“What’s it feel like?” He asked, “Coming home after so long away?”

“To be honest?” Tron said quietly, “I’d rather be anywhere but here. This feels like a trap.”

Beck sat up straight. So, Tron had that same feeling? He looked back out over the city, took in what he could see of its mazelike streets and sharp corners. If they got turned around down there they’d get lost, be easy pickings for any Occupation forces. Oddly enough, though, the city wasn’t red like most others he’d seen. Other than the yellow edged tower in the center of the city, there was no sign of the Occupation around. 

In short, it felt very much like a trap. Beck shook his head.

“Not the first one we’ve dealt with.” He rolled his shoulders back, trying to work out the tension there. “We’ll manage somehow. Then you’ll be in charge and everything will be fine.”

Grid, he hoped so.

"You're taking this idea remarkably well," Tron said quietly, arms over his chest. Beck snorted in amusement.

"What, the idea of you being System Admin?" He smirked. "I don’t see how it’s going to change much. You'll still be telling me what to do, and I'll still choose to go about doing things my way."

"And needing someone to fish your disk out of trouble because of that," Tron groused, lightly shoving Becks head with the palm of one hand. Beck just laughed, easily catching his balance.

"That, too," he said before sobering. He reached up, clasping Trons shoulder. "But seriously, you'll be fine. Being at the top of command doesn't make you Clu."

Tron looked at him sharply. Beck shrugged, and the old program groaned softly.

"When did you get so good at reading me?"

"Lucky guess."

“And he’s been around you long enough,” Yori said from behind them. They both turned to see her walking up, Quorra and Paige trailing in her wake. She smiled at her partner, but her eyes were cold as she looked over the city. It had been their home once, Beck knew; to see it and know that it wasn’t home anymore…he wondered how they were taking that. “You’re not as hard to read as you think.”

Tron was silent, doubtlessly rolling his eyes beneath his helmet. Rather than justify that with a reply he instead asked, “How many are going in?”

“Just the five of us,” Yori said, hands on her hips. “Even if we go in in squads or groups, there’s too many programs entering at once. We’d get noticed by the border guards in a nano.”

“Which throws off the entire plan of lying in wait,” Paige said before Beck could open his mouth. “But why just the five of us?”

“Because a pair of partnered units being escorted in would be almost normal,” Quorra said with a sidelong look at Beck and Paige. They shared a look with one another, then looked back at her.

“He’s not—”

“She isn’t—”

Tron failed to swallow all of his laughter, prompting Beck to turn and give him a hard look even as Quorra broke out into giggles. The old program didn’t even seem phased, looking instead to Yori as she smiled and cracked open her baton. Why did everyone think they were a partnered unit?! Beck liked her, yes, but—

“The rest will all wait here.” Yori rezzed her helmet with a few quiet clicks, bending over her bike’s controls. “I’ll send a signal when we’re ready for them to come in.”

She shot forward in a blaze of light. A pace behind her, Quorra’s bike roared down the hill. Tron looked back at Beck with amusement dancing in his pale eyes before he too was gone, and then it was just them. Paige looked at Beck for a moment before her lips curved upwards.

“Come on,” She said with a knowing look on her face, “We don’t want to be late for the show…Partner.”

She was gone before Beck could reply, leaving him sputtering on the hill overlooking the city. Slowly, he shook his head.

Partners. Somehow that didn’t sound so bad.

\--

Storms stretched out for kilometers ahead of what was left of the Convoy Clu had taken to Argon. What had been hundreds of ships was now less than a single hundred, his contingent cut in half and limping home like the loss of Argon was the loss of a limb.

Dyson was lucky Clu had him out tracking their rogue asset, Clu thought, or he’d have been the one chained up in a hold somewhere. Thunder rumbled outside as Clu rolled his shoulders, trying to keep his breathing even. The storms were getting stronger as more and more of the Grid began to fail and collapse around them, the signs unseen by most programs. They’d have to move some of the outlying cities population inward again. Of all the times to be dealing with a rebellion!

The door behind him swung open quietly. Without a word or fanfare, one of Clu’s remaining Honor Guard stepped into the room. A tablet glowed blue under his arm as he came to a halt several paces behind Clu.

“Word from General Dyson, sir,” his guard said. Clu gestured for him to continue and he said, “The rogue sentry has been derezzed. Tron and the beta are moving on the capitol, assisted by Yori and a force a hundred strong and should be there just ahead of you.”

Yori. Clu almost shuddered. Of all the luck that he’d found _her_ in this disaster…

“Is that all?” He asked instead. His guard was silent for a nano, doubtlessly checking the tablet.

“Yes sir.” A shift in movement and then: “Should I send word to Jarvis?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Clu sighed, staring out at the storm clouds. “Send word to Castor instead. Have him prepare to meet our…guests. And—” He continued, “Send a message to Dyson: If he wants a chance at Tron, he has until we arrive to do it.”

“Yes sir,” Said his guard once more. Clu watched his reflection in the window as he turned on his heel and marched out to do his bidding. It was only when the door closed that Clu sighed more heavily, bending at the waist and putting his hands on his knees. He’d hoped, almost beyond all logic and reason, that the reformat of Argon City would have taken Tron out somehow. But it hadn’t, and both Tron and Beck were still functional. Worse still, they’d managed to find Yori and her makeshift army.

Tron and Yori had been legendary in the Old System, the tales he’d heard from older programs and Flynn both had said, instrumental in the destruction of the MCP of their old home. They were a bundle, not offshoots or part of the same code, but complimentary. Where one would step the other would follow with ease and grace. For the two of them to be together again, and headed for the Capitol…Clu had half a processor to stay in the air and never land again. At least then he’d see them coming!

He was breathing too quickly. Forcing himself to take a deep breath to cool his intakes, Clu stood up straight. He raked a hand through his hair, staring out into the storm. So what if Tron and Yori had reunited? So what if Beck had managed to stay functional. They were three programs with the help of maybe a hundred, and he knew where they were headed. Dyson would catch them and that would be the end of it.

Wouldn’t it?

Lightning struck a rock formation outside the ship. The Grid buzzed beneath his heels, as angry as always. He took another deep breath and pushed it out of his processor.

It wouldn’t be long now. Soon, Tron would be under his control.

Soon, all of this would be over.

\--

The Capitol hadn’t changed in the past five hundred cycles. Tall buildings still reached up into the storm clouds, programs dressed in rain gear or holding transparent umbrellas filled the streets, heedless of the storm spitting rain down on their heads. Though their little group of five earned some odd looks, no one bothered to try and speak to them or slow them down as Quorra, helmet rezzed to hide her face, led them through the mazelike streets of the Capitol. Yori walked at his side, their hands brushing with every step. A step behind, Beck and Paige walked with their heads practically on swivels, small-town programs seemingly overwhelmed by the big city.

He knew better, of course. They were impressed, sure, but there was a solidity to their gazes that spoke more of watching the perimeter than being lost or out of place. It made a bit of proud warmth uncurl in his core, to know how very far Beck had come in so short a time. He could only hope to guide the young program a little bit further. 

“Here—” Quorra said suddenly, coming to a halt in front of a non-descript building. Overhead, neon buzzed through a large sign that cast the entire street in blue light. She pushed open a set of double doors, revealing a repurposed cargo lift on a track. “Zuse runs the club and bar on the top floor. If anyone knows how to get to the Admin Tower, it’ll be him.”

Beneath his helmet, Tron frowned. Beck leaned back and almost fell with how far he had to go to read the sign blazing over their heads. He caught his footing and said,

“End of Line Club?” He looked to Tron, “Do you know the place?”

“I did, once,” He replied, stepping in and shutting the door to the lift behind them. It rose with a core lurching jolt. He looked to Quorra as she derezzed her helmet. “Wasn’t this further uptown before?”

“It was,” Yori said, derezzing her helmet and raking a hand through her hair, “Before Clu blew it up as payback for Zuse being an Iso sympathizer.” She turned to Quorra. “How did he survive that?”

The young Iso shrugged her shoulders up to her ears, hands laced behind her back. Paige turned to watch her instead of at the rapidly disappearing landscape out the dark glass that went from street to penthouse.

“I’m not sure,” Quorra said finally, “I guess if you survive as long as Zuse has, you learn a few tricks.”

Tron turned in time to catch Beck’s eyes. Slowly, Beck shook his head. So, he thought this was a trap, too. Tron frowned beneath his helmet as the lift began to slow, the pulsing beat of music beginning to shake the elevator. The late system time did nothing to deter programs desperate for a good time, and as the lift stopped the doors opened to the club packed full. Programs with all manner of designations and assignments bobbed and weaved, dances Tron didn’t quite recognize or could rightly call dances taking up every bit and byte of their attention. Paige made a disgusted noise behind him, but when he turned enough to look at her her helmet was still up, clean surface reflecting the flickering lights within the club.

With ease borne from many a trip through a crowd like this, Quorra stepped into the club and began to beat a path towards the bar. Yori was a pace behind her, holding onto the Iso’s elbow as they walked, Tron just behind her and Beck at the rear. The clang of the lift doors closing behind them was lost to a heavy bass note, one that made Tron’s entire frame vibrate and audio inputs ring. How anyone could stand this long enough to have _fun_ , he just didn’t know. There were enough programs half-drunk on energy at the bar he really did have to wonder about the stability of their code, but as he watched the white-suited, pale-haired bartender turn around and freeze as he caught sight of Quorra, maybe that was the point.

Maybe no one around here wanted to be stable enough to think.

“Well—” The bartender said in a too-tight voice, “What strikes your fancy, hmm? Bit of High Rise?” He asked, never taking his eyes off of Quorra’s stern face, “Or maybe a little of Five Milli Fire? You look like the type who needs a bit of relaxation—”

“Cut the act, Zuse,” Quorra hissed, barely audible over the thumping music and laughing programs, “I know you.”

“Zuse, hmm?” The program almost whimpered, drawing the attention of a Siren nearby, “No, no, can’t say I know the name. My name is Castor, my dear, and I—”

“Very funny,” Quorra said flatly, “but I think I’d recognize my old friend a kilometer away.”

Silence. Then he sighed. “…Yes,” the Program said with an oddly tight smile across his face, “I suppose you would, my dear. Ah, well,” He sighed again, and his smile became a hint more genuine. “It is quite good to see you in one piece, my dear Quorra—after the Purge, I assumed you derezzed in Arjia City.”

Quorra grimaced. “Not quite,” She said, “but it was close. I had help, and now I need yours.” She gestured with one hand at Yori, and at Tron standing behind her with every circuit on his suit turned off. Zuse blinked, before his eyes went wide.

“Goodness,” Zuse said, looking the two of them over, “I never thought that you’d find—” He put a finger to his own lips, stopping himself from saying another word. He smiled beneath his finger, then cleared his throat. “Well, this is certainly a momentous occasion! Come, come—” He moved to step out, gesturing to the Siren with a single hand. She watched them with pale eyes even as Zuse said, "Gem, my dear," He gestured to Quorra with his chin, "Watch the place for a bit? Something calls my attention."

"Of course," Gem replied with a look at Tron and Yori. She raised a hand and the music changed, the heavy notes and synth covering Zuse's footsteps as he came out from behind the bar to slip an arm around Quorra's shoulders.

"This way, my dear," He said with a tight smile that set Tron's shoulders to tense, "best to have this conversation in private."

He led Quorra away from the bar with that guiding arm. Yori glared at Zuse’s back, quickly falling into step behind him. Tron turned over his shoulder for just long enough to gesture for Beck and Paige to fall in, the pair somehow already used to moving together. He smiled, unseen, beneath his visor. They could say whatever they wanted, but he’d know a partner-bundle when he saw one. If they survived all of this, they’d be good for one another. 

Though that was still a very big if. Tron stepped through the door to Zuse’s office and looked around as Beck and Paige stepped inside, the door closing behind them. There was a small bar across the room, glowing canisters and carafes of energy just waiting to be consumed. The music was muffled here, quieted by the couches and curtains. A sleep-bunk was carved into the back wall, no doubt Zuse’s or perhaps meant for two, but it saw no use as Zuse let go of Quorra, turned on his heel and once again stared at Yori and Tron.

“I’d heard the rumors,” He said, “we all had, but to think…Tron and Yori, both alive and functional?” He shook his head, render desaturating as he rested his hands on the head of his cane. “Clu must be roiling like a storm right about now.”

“I’ll count us all lucky if he is,” Yori said firmly, “But we’re not here to talk, Zuse. The Admin Building.” She watched as he lowered himself to sit in an overstuffed, over-designed chair. “We need access. Quorra says you can get us in there.”

“I most certainly can,” Zuse replied, leaning back in his chair, “But what would be in it for me? If you fail, Clu will know I helped you and then…” He spread his fingers in a mimicry of an explosion, “Once again I must crawl my way back to the top.” He cocked his head to the side. “What do I gain from this little arrangement, hrm?”

“A free Grid doesn’t count for enough?” Beck said, arms crossed over his chest, “You’ve obviously managed to rebuild before.”

“Not with any measure of joy, my young friend,” Zuse sighed, buffing his nails on the front of his coat. He pondered them a moment, then closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. “But I see your point. I certainly would rather enjoy not having Clu breathing down my neck all the time.”

“So you’ll help us?” Paige asked. Zuse looked to her, at his reflection in her helmet, before he rose to his feet.

“I’ll do better than that, my dear program,” He said with a grin, holding his cane tight in one hand, “I’ll take you to the top of the building myself.” He gestured with two fingers for the five of them to follow before heading to the back wall. Without a word he reached up to a light fixture bolted just above his bunk, turned it counter clockwise, and then stepped back as a wall panel slid upwards to reveal a smaller lift. Beck whistled softly as the lights clicked on. Zuse grinned.

“Straight into the tunnels for us.” He turned to glance back at them, “I do hope none of you are afraid of tight spaces.”

“We’ll manage,” Tron said flatly, the last to step onto the lift. Zuse used his cane to shift between Quorra and Paige’s arms to press a button near the doorway, sending them down at speed. There was no way to monitor their depth, but Tron’s internal clock told him this descent took longer than the ascent to the club from the street. It made sense: the tunnels beneath the Capitol were deeper than the ones beneath Argon, having never been used for drainage or races. Flynn had built the ones here much like the ones in Lithium: for storage and extra living space if it had been needed. In the past programs had used them, but now…Tron frowned as they stepped off the lift and into the dimly lit tunnels.

Now, no one seemed to use them. Yori frowned, rezzing her helmet as they passed through stale air.

“When’s the last time anyone was down here,” She asked softly. Zuse shrugged.

“Before the Purge, I’d say,” He said as he began to guide them down the long stretch of tunnel, “Now there’s quite a bit more space up in the city, so programs see no need to come and stay here.”

Quorra flinched back away from him. Yori put an arm around her shoulders, her spine straight as a staff as she stared at the back of Zuse’s head, doubtlessly glaring at him for his unkind commentary. Tron brushed a hand across her shoulder as they walked, transmitting a gentle [ _calm_ ] through to her. She sighed, looking at him, but didn’t release Quorra. From his other side, Beck shook his head.

“Not even Clu’s soldiers have been down here?”

“Oh, they don’t quite see the need,” Zuse waved a hand in the air, “And they’ve been ever so busy squashing rebellions and resistances since word of Tron’s continuing survival got out, you see.” He swung his cane as they walked, back and forth like a pendulum. Tron frowned. “All those little rebellions have certainly been giving Clu some real trouble. Nearly a million programs all up in arms against him? It’s really a surprise we haven’t had more reformats yet!”

Beck made an oddly pained noise in the back of his throat. Paige took his hand as they walked, but remained silent. Barely a micro later, Zuse stopped them at a doorway. It was locked with a keypad, but four presses and quiet chimes later, it swung open. Still unseen, Tron’s frown deepened. How had Zuse known the access code to the Admin Tower? Another of his tricks of survival? Or perhaps something more.

There was no time to think on it. Zuse led the little group into the maintenance hatches of the Tower, straight down the corridor and one right turn into the elevator. There, another code sent it up at such a pace the ground seemed to lurch beneath them. Tron caught his balance, looking out as glass reappeared. They were headed up, up, up, high into the airspace around the Capitol. Higher than most Lightjets dared to fly, the only ships up here would be Clu’s convoy. He looked around for the yellow-lined command ship, set to arrive within the milli, but it was hidden from sight at this angle. It must have been on the other side of the building. 

“Why do you have the access keys for this building?” Beck piped up from behind Tron. Zuse blinked, then turned that same smile back over his shoulder. Everyone stared at him, the edge to his smile tighter now, before he turned away.

“When you survive as long as I have, you learn a few…tricks,” Zuse said as the elevator dinged their arrival. He stepped out as the doors opened, his white-suited back quickly darting off down the golden lit hall before Quorra could grab him. Tron looked at Yori, who looked back at him with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. It was obvious now that this was a trap, but what choice was there? They had to strike now. If they didn’t, if Clu had a chance to mount a proper defense of the tower or offense against the Resistance, what chance would they ever have again?

The thought caught in his processor, Tron stepped off the elevator and after Zuse. This high up they were above the storm clouds, and he could make out the other towers through breaks in the clouds. He could also see that Zuse had come to a halt in the center of the half-lit room, looking out at the storm brewing around them, and at Clu’s convoy just now visible over the Outlands on its way home. Frowning, Tron held out an arm to keep Quorra from walking over to him. Zuse took a breath, nodded once to himself, and then began to speak.

“You see,” Zuse clasped the head of his cane in both hands, “The reason Clu was breathing down my neck most recently? I knew where you were, my dear,” He strode backwards past Quorra, who’d gone stiff as she finally realized what they walked into. “And hadn’t told him a word. But,” Zuse smiled, “My dear Gem passed word to his command staff the micro you came with me.” Everyone turned. Paige snarled and reached for her disk. “So, I suspect you’ll see Clu quite soon indeed.” Zuse stepped back through the doorway. “I am rather sorry it’s come to this, my dear Quorra, but…such is the way the disk has fallen.”

“Zuse, you—” Quorra screamed, charging for him with circuits overload bright. The white-suited program gave a jaunty little wave as the door closed and locked with a harsh click. Alongside Quorra Paige threw herself at the doorway but it wouldn’t budge. Beck grabbed the bypasser wrench off his hip and slammed it to the wall, watching the code stream past.

“It’s locked,” He said after a nano, emitter glowing a soft blue-green as he tried to work, “It’ll take a sixteenth to get through all this encryption!”

Tron opened his mouth, then stopped. Footsteps echoed through the room. He reached back for his disk.

“We don’t have that kind of time,” He said. Everyone turned around, watching as, from the shadows, strode a red-lined program. There was a sneering smile on that old familiar face, hands clasped at the small of his spine.

“Well,” Dyson said in a falsely warm voice, “this is certainly a surprise.” He looked over the little group with knowing eyes, gaze lingering on Beck before Tron stepped in front of him. “Tron, Beck, our former Commander Paige, and—oh my.” He paused, eyes going wide as he finally saw Yori standing beside Tron. Her circuits were flaring overload bright, shoulders rising and falling in a forcibly steady rhythm. She glared at Dyson as he continued, “Yori. What a pleasant surprise! And look—” He turned his gaze on Quorra, her disk still in hand. “You brought us an Iso.” His eyes narrowed and all trace of amusement dropped from his tone. “The _last_ Iso.”

Quorra drew in a sharp breath. Her render went pale; she stepped back behind Yori as Dyson’s eyes narrowed with unhidden hatred.

“Clu will be _very_ pleased to see you again, I’m sure,” He finally sneered, taking a step forward towards them. Tron shifted his weight, hearing two disks kick on behind him as Beck and Paige took their stances. Paige then gasped softly in alarm, before Beck hissed something that Tron just couldn’t make out. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of Dyson but then Beck stepped up beside him and took his stance despite a fine tremble to his frame. Dyson just cocked his head. Then he opened his mouth--

“Quorra!” Tron shouted, “Get out of here! Go!”

“But—” She started to protest, only for Paige to shoot forward, grab her by the wrist and forcibly pull her along. She stumbled, reaching out for them, “Tron!”

“Go!” He and Yori shouted in unison, Beck’s voice echoing a nano later. Dyson shifted his weight, made to charge after the two female-designates, only to have to leap back as Yori’s disk nearly carved his head off his shoulders. He landed with a snarl, glaring at the her. With a breathy sob Quorra turned away; she and Paige took a running leap out the window, glass shattering and batons cracking open. Two light-jets flew out of the city, blue-white and green trails bright in the darkening sky. Dyson sneered as he rose to his feet.

“That won’t protect them, you know,” He said, pacing a wide circle around the three of them, “Clu will be here any micro. He’ll find the Iso and finally be done with the threat to the Grid.”

“The only threat around here is you,” Yori hissed, staff extending from her baton, “And we’re going to be done with you!”

Dyson smirked.

“I’d like to see you try,” He said with a huff of laughter, reaching back to grab his disk, “But then…you never were very good at fighting, Yori.”

“We’ll see about that.”

And then they moved. Tron and Yori charged forward in the same nano, side by side, while Beck went around to flank Dyson. Dyson pivoted on his heel, moved to throw his disk at Beck, only to find Tron there to clash with instead. Beck went low as Yori went high, the two of them aiming for Dyson’s port as if they’d trained together for cycles. Dyson snarled, forced to drop the clash and drop to his knees, spinning out a whirling kick to force the three of them to jump back or lose their footing. He popped back to his feet and charged at Tron again, only to have to jump back as Yori swung her staff wide. He almost slipped as the Tower rattled. Tron looked up, snarling as he saw the yellow-lined command ship of Clu’s convoy docking at the top. Clu had arrived, and they were still here dealing with Dyson? There wasn’t time for this! He stepped sideways, towards the steps that would lead up to the highest level of the Tower.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” Dyson shouted, taking a run at Tron again. Tron braced his stance, brought his disk up—but then Yori was there, staff in hand. Dyson leapt back rather than be skewered, a frown creasing his brow as he landed and stared them down.

“You two go,” Yori said firmly, holding Dyson back at the end of her staff, “I’ll deal with him.” She turned her head enough to meet Tron’s gaze, “Stop Clu.”

“Yori—” He reached out, but she reached back with one hand and shoved him back. He stumbled, eyes wide as she turned to face down Dyson. He couldn’t leave her to fight him! Five hundred cycles of skill or otherwise he’d derezz her! He reached out to her, “Yori, no!”

“Go!” She shouted. Dyson’s frown became a sneering little smirk. He looked at Tron over Yori’s shoulder, eyes gleaming with malice. There was a promise in there, too, Tron knew: Dyson intended to derezz Yori, and then come for him. He needed to stay, to end this threat once and for all, but—

“Tron,” Beck shouted from the stairs at the other end of the room, “Come on! We have to go now!”

For a nano, Tron hesitated. He looked from Yori to Dyson, then to Beck halfway bent over the rail of the stairs. Core lurching in his chest, he turned away.

“We’ll come back!” He shouted to Yori as he hit the stairs. Ahead of him, Beck was taking them two at a time. Tron looked down for only a nano, then forced himself to turn his eyes forward.

They had to stop Clu. That was all that mattered.

Soon, one way or another, this would all be over.


	14. 00110001-00110100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Last minute polish! (you don't want to know how long I sat on that ref.)

The Capitol was full of soldiers. They streamed out of unmarked buildings, flooding the streets with red-lined forms. The white and blue lined citizens of the city screamed and ran for cover in every direction, ducking into any building that would take them. A tank rumbled down the main road, turret on a swivel as its driver looked for anyone who wasn’t supposed to be out there. It looked up then, seemed to hang for a second, before it opened fire.

Flying alongside her, Quorra shouted as the pair of them had to roll away from the shot. It went close enough that Paige could feel the heat of it along her side and she hissed, pouring as much speed into her green-lined jet as she could give it. It shot forward, out over the city wall, and away from any tank fire. Quorra at her side again she dropped low over the canyon, derezzing her jet and dropping to the ground. Programs shouted, startled as they landed in mirrored crouches among the horde. Quorra was first back to her feet.

“Everyone!” She shouted, voice carrying despite the thunder rumbling above them, “We need to go! Tron and Yori need our help!”

The crowd parted, a half-familiar head of cyan colored hair shoving her way through. Mara popped out of the crowd and stopped at the edge, staring at the two of them standing apart from the rest. She opened her mouth.

“Look!” Someone shouted, drawing everyone’s eyes to the airspace above their head. The Grid seemed to tremble as Paige looked up, nearly falling to her knees at the sight of the yellow-lined Command ship flying into the Capitol’s airspace from the north. She’d seen it in the distance as they escaped the Admin Tower, but hadn’t thought it was that close! She watched, processor stalling and core in her throat, as the large ship docked with the tower, a bright flare of yellow signifying it was taking in power. 

Clu had arrived. Paige’s frame trembled; Beck was still back there. She knew that he would never leave Tron to face such a foe alone. 

He wasn’t going to come back from this one. 

She turned to Mara and Zed just now coming out of the crowd beside her, and they must have seen something on her face because Mara took a step forward and reached out, grabbing Paige’s arms with both hands.

“Where’s Beck?” She asked in a plaintive voice. When Paige couldn’t respond, she squeezed hard with both hands. “Where is he, Paige?”

“He’s back there,” Quorra rasped. Everyone turned to stare at her, but her eyes were on the tower, “With Tron and Yori. Fighting Clu.” She turned to the milling crowd made of Beck’s fellows and a good chunk of Lithium’s Resistance. “We have to go and help them! We have to join the fight!”

Programs turned enough to share looks with one another. Others stared at Quorra, or gave Paige narrow-eyed looks. None of them moved beyond to cross their arms over their chests, hiding the mark of Tron from view. Paige’s core lurched. They weren’t going to—Mara turned on her heel.

“What are you all waiting for?!” She shouted, shrill voice driving into Paige’s audio input, “We have to go now!”

A handful of the former mechanics from Argon stepped forward, but they were the only ones. Paige’s core sank to somewhere near her feet, grinding to a proverbial halt as no one else moved. Mara shook her head slowly, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“You have got to be joking,” She said in a breathless whisper before her voice began to gain in volume, “You come all this way and now you won’t fight? What has gotten into you—”

“How do we know they’re telling the truth?” A male-designate broke in suddenly, causing everyone to look at him. His command-yellow assignment markings flared as he gathered his courage and continued, “She’s Occupation, and she—” He gestured at Quorra, “Is an Iso.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Why should we trust them? This could be a trap.”

Quorra took a trembling step back, staring with a partially open mouth and wide eyes. She looked from program to program as if trying to find something, but none would meet her gaze. The male-designate that had spoken seemed to take this as agreement with him. He took a step forward. 

“It probably is! You get payback for losing your people,” He pointed at Quorra, then at Paige, “And you’re a double agent working for Clu!” He glared at her, heedless of Mara’s steadily brightening circuits and narrowing eyes, “We can’t trust you!”

"Then trust me," A voice broke in, carrying down the hill. Everyone turned, watching the crowd of Basics part as a single white-suited Siren walked down the hill behind them, staff in hand. Eyes went wide, a murmur starting up as the Siren parted the crowd while she walked towards Mara and Paige, staff tucked under her arm. Mara stared at the Siren, eyes wide. Raindrops caught on the Siren’s dark hair and skin, gleaming in the light of a distant lightning strike. Quorra gasped. 

"Ruby!" She shouted, "They told us you were derezzed!"

Ruby smiled a bit. Behind her, a dozen other Sirens appeared over the edge of the hill, a dozen more behind them. They were all armed, all ready for war. They were an army all on their own, Paige realized, with this Ruby at their helm.

"Rumors of my deresolution have been greatly exaggerated," She said with a smile, then looked to Paige. Her smile lingered, the look in her eyes knowing as she said, "I trust Medic Paige and Quorra are telling us the truth. And even if they aren't," She turned back to face the crowd, her crew of Sirens spread out around them, "This is our best chance to put an end to Clu. Now…” Staff in hand, she raised her disk to the air. “Who's with me!?"

"We are!" The Resistance roared, disks glowing against the dark. As the Sirens trotted forward to help organize the massive crowd into strike teams, one pulling the male-designate away, Paige sighed in relief. She looked up as Ruby came to stand beside her.

"Thank you," Paige said, "I don't know why you vouched for us, but…thank you."

Ruby laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled warmly.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Paige. Everyone." The knowing look was still in her eyes. Something warm uncoiled in Paige’s core as Ruby gently pinged [ _trust_ ] down her arm. Together, the pair looked up at the Admin Tower, where streaks of white light could just be seen clashing with streaks of red. A smirk curled across Paige’s face and she reached for her baton. She gestured up at the tower with it, and Ruby tilted her head.

“Well,” She corrected herself with a mirrored smirk, “ _Almost_ everyone.”

—  
“I have to admit,” Dyson said as he stepped back from a wide swing, “I’m impressed! You fight well for a simulation-assigned program, Yori.”

Yori paused for a nano, tucking her staff beneath her arm. Dyson had stepped back from nearly every blow, only a streak of blue internal code smeared down his face to show for her efforts in breaking his head. She’d gotten his nose, at least, but he was infinitely more experienced in combat than she was. It was all she could do to keep him from using his disk on her neck instead, and she knew part of that was because he was still toying with her.

She hated that. His sneer made her core spin up faster and faster, the look in his eyes like a new beta staring at a three-legged Grid-bug and wondering if they should put it out of its misery quickly or pull off another leg instead.

“I was trained by the best,” She spat at him. He blinked, then scoffed out a laugh.

“The best?” He shook his head, disk tapping against his hip, “Yori, please. Tron is hardly the best—”

He cut himself off mid-sentence as she leapt at him, staff coming in hard. He ‘oof’ed and sprawled as she caught him across the ribs this time, but quickly got back to his feet and stared as she glared at him.

“Not Tron,” She said, “Ruby.” She narrowed her eyes. “You always did underestimate the ones who didn’t share your designation.”

Dyson narrowed his eyes. Yori tightened her grip on her staff and stepped to the side. In the cycles before all of this, when he and Tron had still been friends, Dyson had always had an odd edge to him, one that caught on Yori like a bad read. It wasn’t that he’d been unfriendly to her, she thought as they began to circle one another, it was that he just never seemed to look at her—or Ruby, or any other female-designate—the same way he looked at Tron. He’d never seemed to be able to expect the best from them.

That was going to be his undoing, Yori thought firmly. With a sharp cry she pushed off with one foot and lunged at Dyson, bringing her staff around hard and fast. He leapt back, flipping away from one blow and tossing himself out of the way of another, always missing the hit by mere millimeters. Yori cursed, trying to close the tiny gap, but he was just fast enough that he could dodge her.

Not fast enough to attack back, at least, and she could tell that bothered him. His brow furrowed, eyes flashing and circuits glowing brighter and brighter as she kept pushing him back, closer and closer to a corner. She almost grinned: if she could corner him, she’d have him at range. He wouldn’t be able to throw his disk and she’d _have him._

“No!” Tron suddenly shouted from above. Yori missed a step, instinctively looking up at the fear in his voice. Footsteps rattled down the stairs nearby and Yori turned; a flare of gold had just appeared when something—someone—tried to wrench her staff out of her hands.

Dyson. 

Yori cursed to herself—Ruby would have had her disk for so sloppy a a move—and held on with all her strength, but Dyson was stronger still. With a heave and a short cry of his own he tossed her, staff and all, towards the nearest window. She hit port first, warnings flaring as the glass cracked behind her. Trying to ignore the pain, Yori pushed herself back to her feet and took her stance once more. She scanned the room, watching as four golden-lined Honor Guard took positions behind and beside Dyson, disks revving in their hands. Yori grimaced, holding her staff tight to her chest. The glass of the tower was snow-cold against her port this high up. If she tried to jump, she’d have only nanos to crack her baton into a jet before the fall would become terminal. Swallowing hard, Yori shifted her stance.

This was it. Whoever moved next would change the course of the battle. It would have to be her.

Each of the Honor Guard took a step forward in unison. She held her staff out in front of her, eyes skimming across all of them. Her gaze caught on Dyson’s sneer.

“I’ll give Tron your regards,” He said in a voice like sour energy, “Do say hello to Ruby for me.”

Yori snarled at him. She opened her mouth to retort as the Honor Guard took another matched step forward, but then she caught sight of a reflection in their helmets. Dyson’s breath hitched, caught in his intakes. He stepped back.

Yori threw herself to the ground, hands over her port, as glass shattered from the window behind her. A blur of white and silver threw itself into the room and came up with an energetic little hop, a dark fist crashing into the chin of an Honor Guard. The program went down hard, wordlessly derezzing as the Siren slammed her staff into his middle before turning to the remaining three. Yori looked up and let her core rise in hope.

“Ruby!” She shouted. Ruby smiled back at her.

“Hello, Yori,” She said kindly, “Looks like you could use some help.”

Then she rushed at the remaining Guards. Yori scrambled to her feet and hurled herself at the stunned Dyson with a shout; he stepped back, disk up, only to meet hers in a clash of sparks. Her staff dropped to the ground with a clang as she leaned all her weight against him, white clashing with gold just behind her in little flares of light like fireworks. She bared her teeth as he slipped backwards, her feet nearly slipping out beneath her from the force.

Then he shook off the surprise and pushed back. Rather than be caught in a grapple she dropped, sweeping a kick at his legs. He tried to leap back but she caught his ankle and he tumbled; she scrambled to grab her staff, nearly knocked it away with her fingertips before she could get hold of it, and had to roll to the side as he got back to his feet and dove at her. He grabbed her by the arm before she could get free, yanking her back before the floor seemed to cave as his weight landed firmly on her torso, her port screaming and torso joining the chorus as his frame pressed against hers. He was so close she could feel his output against her face as he spoke.

“You think you can change anything,” He sneered at her, “but all you’re doing is prolonging the inevitable. Clu will win, and when he does, Tron will be his.” His eyes narrowed in distaste. Yori snarled at him but had no air to spare for speaking as he continued, “And I am going to _enjoy_ making him watch as I derezz you and Beck both, bit by. Excruciating. Bit.”

He reached for her face with one hand. Before his fingers could come down his eyes went wide.

“Catch!” Ruby shouted a single nano before a blur of gold and black slammed into Dyson and knocked him clean off of Yori. She gasped, coughing on the intake as she rolled herself to her side. She turned her head, still struggling for breath, and would have laughed if she had the air to spare. Dyson had definitely caught that Honor Guard, and was now struggling back to his own stance through a pile of golden-lined cubes. There was only going to be one shot at this.

Quick as she could Yori turned off her pain circuit and grabbed her staff. She heaved herself to her feet, palmed her disk, and threw it wildly. Dyson ducked the wide throw but not the staff that came for his head a nano later, knocking him back to the ground with a surprised grunt. He caught himself on his hands and turned to get up, to leap back to his feet, but this time Yori was there and ready for him. He went stiff as she held her staff at his throat, breathing hard. He stared up at her with wide eyes, and though it was more of a snarl than a grin, she smiled at him.

“You will never,” She said firmly, “get to hurt Tron again.”

She drove her staff down into his throat. He didn’t even have a chance to scream before his head collapsed into cubes, the rest of his frame failing a nano later. 

Then she was alone with only Ruby. She turned to her old friend, who looked up from where she was kicking the last of golden-edged cubes away. Ruby smiled at her, arms outstretched. Yori tossed her staff aside and took a few shaky steps forward, collapsing into Ruby’s arms a nano later. She took in a deep breath, shaking on the inhale, before letting it go as she clung to Ruby with all her remaining strength.

“They told me you were gone…”

“I almost was,” Ruby’s voice rattled through her frame, “By the time I came to, Argon was nearly gone. I almost didn’t make it back.” Yori squeezed harder, clinging to her oldest friend. “Come on now, Yori,” Ruby’s voice was soft, the hand in Yori’s hair a comfort, “You know me.” She pulled back enough to lean their foreheads together, “I’m far too stubborn to go ahead and derezz like that.”

Yori laughed a little, the sound small through her tightened intakes. 

“So you’ve told me. Can you forgive me for forgetting?” She asked as they pulled apart. Ruby chuckled, brushing a loose lock of Yori’s hair back behind an ear. 

“We’ll call it even if we can pull this off.” She looked up to next floor, and the strikes of light that they could just see from down below. “We still have work to do.”

“Yeah,” Yori looked back, core in her throat as she caught a glimpse of white leaping back from a command-yellow disk. Tron and Beck were in that fight on their own. She had to have faith. He’d survived this long, and if they went up there now she’d only get in the way.

As much as she wanted a piece of Clu, this was their fight. She turned back to Ruby.

“Let’s go clean up our city.”

—  
“You know,” Clu said, trembling hands clenched at the small of his back as he stared out into the Capitol below, “I have to say I’m impressed. You two sure do know how to cause trouble.”

“It’s in our code,” Tron spat back, disk revving in his hand. Beck looked sideways at him for a moment, then out the window past Clu. From the top floor of the Admin Tower, the entirety of the Capitol could be seen. What wasn’t covered by thick storm clouds, at any rate, the foreboding storm having broken above the city with booming thunder and cracks of lightning. Not even the tallest towers breached the storm, but the Admin Tower rose one level above it. Doubtlessly, Beck realized, so the Command Ship could dock without being affected by any storms.

It also meant that a fall from this height, if a program didn’t catch themselves, would be entirely unsurvivable. Watching the tense line of Tron’s shoulders in the reflection of the glass, Beck came to the stark conclusion that that may have been Clu’s best chance at a peaceful deresolution. Tron didn’t seem ready to give him one otherwise.

With narrowed eyes Beck turned his attention to Clu. He didn’t turn around, choosing instead to keep watch on roiling storm. He tilted his head as if listening to something Beck couldn’t hear, then closed his eyes. On the spiral staircase up to the rooftop, the four golden-lined Honor Guard shifted their weight. Beck tightened his grip on his disk.

“So it is,” Clu finally sighed, “So it is.”

He turned around. Behind him, just by the window, was the terminal that Yori had pointed out would wrench control away from Clu. If they could just get his disk onto it, they could end all of this. 

Something told Beck it wouldn’t be that simply. An Honor Guard shifted his weight, foot scuffing against a step. Could Clu fight, Beck wondered. If he could, then this was about to get very ugly. If he couldn’t, four against two wasn’t the worst odds on the Grid. He still didn’t like it, though. He watched through narrowed eyes as Clu took a single step forward.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you two to step down and just…let this all blow over?” Clu spread a hand in the air towards them. Beck shifted his stance to something more defensive as Tron _growled_ low in his throat. Clu retracted his hand, letting it fall limp to his side as his face fell into a frown. “…I didn’t think so.” He laughed quietly, but the edge was raw in a way Beck couldn’t quite place. The Honor Guard shifted their weight again, but none reached for their disks. Tron shifted his stance.

“So much for the plan,” Tron said almost to himself. Beck shot his mentor a look from the corner of his eye.

"When's the last time anything went according to plan," Beck hissed quietly. Tron rolled his shoulders in almost a shrug.

"I don't think there was a last time."

Beck nearly laughed. He forced himself to look back at Clu, who had come to a stop just out of reach. For half a micro, no one moved. Thunder rumbled outside and lightning flashed. They all just stood there, watching, waiting. The window reflected Beck’s Argon-issue circuits back at him, and he forced himself to look at Clu. Clu was frowning, brow furrowed.

Then he sighed and shook his head. “I can see why Dyson was so afraid of you two. The amount of chaos you two can cause…” He looked up and nearly seemed to glare at them. “You’re worse than the Isos.

Tron snorted.

“That’s high praise, coming from you.” He said coolly, “How long did it take for you to take them out? And you still couldn’t do it.”

Clu waved a hand in the air, though his circuits flickered. “One Iso left is hardly a problem. I’ll deal with her sooner rather than later.”

“No,” Tron and Beck said in unison. Quorra had saved them in the Outlands, had taken Tron back to his partner. Beck would sooner derezz than let her go undefended, and it seemed to him that Tron was the same as he continued, “You’ll be derezzed before I let that happen, Clu. This is where it’s going to end for you.”

Clu sighed again, the same put-upon sigh that Able had used to sigh whenever one of his mechanics just couldn’t seem to get the point. Beck’s core lurched; that sound didn’t sound right coming from Clu. He shook off the thought as Clu shook his head.

“No, Tron,” He said with a gesture to his Guard behind him, “This is where it ends for all of you.”

Before they could react, the four golden-lined programs rushed for the stairs in a single knot. Beck leapt back out of their way rather than be bowled over, but they ducked Tron’s wildly thrown disk and made it out the door before they could be stopped. 

“No!” Tron shouted, rushing for the stairwell. There was a ringing sound, almost like a struck glass of energy, and then Tron had to skid to a stop as a yellow-lined wall slammed up in front of him, blocking all access back downstairs. Beck turned around, glaring at Clu as he wagged a finger in Tron’s direction, one foot still positioned as if he’d just stomped it to the ground.

“It’s not nice to walk off on an old friend like that, Tron. We weren’t done talking.” Clu said chidingly. Tron whirled around, brow furrowed and eyes wild with rage. Beck nearly stepped back. Clu actually did, blinking for a nano before he frowned. “I’m sure Dyson is taking very good care of Yori.”

“You glitching piece of malware!” Tron shouted, startling them both. Beck whirled around, staring with wide eyes as Tron stalked back towards Clu. “If anything happens to her, I’ll derezz you with my bare hands!”

He heard more than saw Clu step back, towards the windows as Tron came to a halt at Beck’s side. Clu’s circuits flickered for half a nano, then stabilized as he frowned.

“No,” He said, “You won’t. Once I’m done with you, you won’t mind that she’s gone.” His eyes fell to Beck. Tron’s growl was audible this time. “You won’t care that anyone’s gone once we’re through here. You’ll do away with them yourself.”

By becoming Clu’s greatest weapon against the Resistance. Core lurching hard, Beck turned to keep his back out of Clu’s sight. His disk revved in his hand. Beside him, Tron began to shift his weight.

“He has to be stopped,” Tron spat, “Whatever it takes.”

Whatever the cost went unsaid. Beck looked from Tron to Clu, standing there with his shoulders straight even as they trembled, before he squared his shoulders and nodded.

“Whatever it takes.”

In unison, the pair of them shot off towards Clu. His eyes went wide with alarm and he scrambled to grab his disk, bringing it up in near useless defense. Yellow clashed with two sources of blue-tinged white, sparks dropping to the floor beneath them. Though it was obvious through the visible strain and tremble of his arm that Clu wasn’t properly trained—breaking a grapple had been one of the first things Tron had taught Beck himself—he had the raw power to not really need to be in a case like this. Beck’s boots slipped; he shifted his stance, pushed more of his weight onto Clu’s disk and arms, and Clu stumbled back with a shout. Beck ducked away, letting Tron pass through to punch Clu right in the jaw. Clu stumbled again and then Tron was there again with another punch, and then another. Blue internal code splattered against the ground before Clu could catch his balance and bring his disk back up, catching Tron’s disk. Beck rushed back in, disk raised and ready, but Clu shifted just enough that he was able to hold the two of them in a lock once more. His entire body trembled now, circuits pulsing as he tried to reroute power and hold them off.

An alarm sounded, the circuits of the tower fading from Command-yellow to a bright red that pulsed on for three nanos, then off for two. The pattern repeated as screens all along the windows flared to life, glowing in response to the alarm. Caught in a three way tangle the trio of programs stared at the screens, watching with equally wide eyes as the streets flooded with the programs of the Resistance, guided by gleaming white-suited Sirens. Disks clashed with disks as the Resistance began in earnest. There were more soldiers in the streets now, red lines flaring bright as they fought for their disks. A tank appeared around a corner, firing a shot that scored down the street to explode in a knot of Emblem-wearing programs. Beck’s core stuttered for a nano as the shouts and roar of the crowd became so loud that it was audible even at this height, even with the screens sound output turned off. It nearly froze in his chest as he caught a glimpse of Mara’s cyan hair, Zed at her side, and then they were both out of sight, tackling a Blackguard to the street and out of the camera’s reach. Arms straining, Clu shook his head.

“No,” He whispered, looking from one screen to another, looking as his rule began to collapse. “No no no!” He turned on Tron and Beck with a wild snarl. “Do you two have any idea what you’ve done?!”

Before either could reply he stomped his foot down hard. Code gleamed in fractal lines for half a nano before erupting upwards in a shoddily constructed wall, forcing the pair of them back. Clu came out in a whirlwind, slashes wide and sloppy in a manner that spoke more of lack of training than anything else. 

“Do you have any idea how many programs you just got derezzed?!” He screamed. Beck ducked, sidestepping out of the way.

“They’re not here because of us!” He shouted back, flipping away from a particularly harsh slash at his middle, “They’re here because they can’t stand you being in power anymore!”

“They’ll all be derezzed! The Grid will keep collapsing!” He slashed his disk at Beck again, and this time got close enough that Beck could feel the heat of it. It did nothing to chase away the chill in his core; the Grid was _collapsing_? A few paces to the side Tron tossed his disk, forcing Clu back away from Beck. 

“Because you keep repurposing and destroying everything!” He shouted back at Clu as Clu turned that snarl on his former friend, “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t turned on the Grid!”

“The Isos were ruining everything!” Clu screamed, fractal lines branching out from beneath his boots. The tower shook and windows cracked, several screens disappearing as their emitters failed. “If I hadn’t taken over, we’d all be gone already!”

“And this has helped?!” Tron shouted as he caught his disk. Thunder roared outside, but it could do nothing against the roar of the crowd below. “This is your fault! And there’s nothing you can do to make it right!”

Clu’s eyes were wild, wide as he looked from Tron to the remaining screens to Beck and then back again. His disk sputtered in his hand, went dim, and for a nano Beck thought that was it. That the guilt of Clu’s actions had caught up with him and the fight was over.

“I don’t think a sentence in the Games is going to fix this,” Beck said sternly. Clu went stiff.

“No,” Clu whispered, “No. No more games,” Clu snarled, turning to face Beck head on. Beck stepped back, startled by the rage in his eyes. “I’m done playing around with you two! I’m going to do what I should have done the nano I first saw you!”

His disk suddenly glowed so bright Beck couldn’t look at it; he turned away, bringing up his arm in defense as Clu began to charge only to turn around and meet Tron head on as the old program began to come at him from behind. Their disks clashed with a bright flash, yellow melding with blue-white, and sparks drifted to the ground as Tron tried—and failed—to break the grapple. Clu’s circuits flared overload bright as their disks scraped together, the sound of the edges clashing like nails down glass. Not letting himself hesitate Beck charged at the opening, then was caught in the middle as Clu stomped again, the wall coming up too quickly to dodge. He tumbled over it head over heels with a short cry, wheezing breathlessly and processor protesting as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel the clash in the floor as he got to his hands and knees, staring up at the two of them. 

“Face it, Clu—” Tron grit out, “It’s over! You’re done!” 

Disk still caught he broke the clash with a headbutt, knocking his forehead against Clu’s. Clu stumbled back a few paces, clutching at his head with his free hand. A nano later Tron broke into a run, only to be stopped head in his tracks as another wall came up fast and hard. Tron impacted with every ounce of momentum his run gave him and tumbled backwards with the breath knocked clean out of him. Clu moved, taking a step towards his prone former friend, but Beck lurched to his feet and rushed in before Clu could do more than take a step in pursuit; with a cry he charged bodily right into Clu’s middle, tackling him to the ground. The impact was hard and breath stealing, forceful enough that they rolled once, twice, three times until they were nearly at a window. They came to their knees in the same nano, disks revving and held at each other’s throats. Beck’s circuitry flickered, but his arm was steady. Clu was breathing hard, the disk rasping up and down his neck with each cycle of intake and outflow. His eyes were wide, pupils blown from the light of his burning hot disk as he stared at Beck’s stern face.

Then he laughed. The sound was high, rimmed in hysteria. His disk flared; Beck narrowed his eyes against the light.

“You won’t hurt me,” Clu said, in unknowing mockery of Tron’s words all that time ago. Beck snarled as Clu continued, “I know your binary. You don’t derezz programs, _Mechanic_.” He hissed the word as if it were a curse, an oath of pain. Beck didn’t flinch.

“You’re right,” he said firmly as he could, ignoring the tremble of Clu’s disk at his throat. If either of them moved, that would be the end of both of them. His free hand went to his hip, to bypass the floor and send Clu tumbling down a level, but the bypasser wasn’t there. It was still downstairs. Beck cursed himself. “I am a Mechanic. I was made to fix things,” Programs, even. His eyes narrowed further. “I was designed to help keep the Grid safe.”

Clu said nothing. A handful of nanos ticked by before he inhaled and then said in a quiet voice, “Even from its Admin?”

“Even from you.”

Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A flicker of white light—a disk, coming right at them. Dropping his disk Beck threw himself to the ground; Clu’s disk cut a thin gash down the side of his neck but could go no further, because with a screeching noise and a cascade of sparks, Tron’s disk collided with Clu’s to send them both to embed themselves in the floor as Clu cried out in surprise. Now back on his feet, Tron stalked over. Clu scrambled back, eyes wide with panic. His suit squeaked against the floor as Beck rose to his knees.

"Tron, don't,” Clu wheezed, the distance between the old programs closing fast, “--you don't--"

"Don't what?” Tron hissed, bending to pick up his disk, “Want to lock you up and lose the key?” He pulled his disk from the ground with a stiff wrench, “Don't want to derezz you with my bare hands?” His back was to Beck, posture straight and offensive. He threw out a hand in a harsh slash, circuits overload bright. “I trusted you! But you turned on the Grid! You turned on Flynn!"

"I was tasked with making the Grid perfect!” Clu threw up his hands in useless defense, “I was following my directive!"

"By erasing innocent programs!?"

"By making them perfect!” Clu sat up straighter now, never taking his eyes off of Tron. "They're better now!”

Tron stopped moving. He was nearly on top of Clu now, and Clu had to strain his neck to look up at him. For a few tense nanos, no one said anything. Clu reached to the ground with one hand, fractal lines spreading from each finger.

“…They’re perfect now?” Tron asked tightly. Clu’s hand clenched into a fist, the lines stopping in their tracks. He smiled up at Tron.

“Yes—yes, exactly! They’re perfect! Just like you two can be if you just—”

Whatever Clu was going to say stopped dead in his throat. He stared with wide, terrified eyes as Tron raised his disk with both hands, the line of his shoulders tense. 

“Tron—” Clu shook his head, raising an arm to defend himself, “Tron wait—”

Tron plunged his disk down. 

With an echoing scream, Clu collapsed into a pile of yellow-edged cubes. Beck watched as Tron crouched there, in the remains of a program he had once called friend, and kept his eyes closed. 

**[Warning. Critical system failure. Warning: Critical system failure.]**

Beneath them both, the Grid began to tremble. Beck turned on his hands, half bent, to look out the window at the Capitol. He watched, core lurching as the outer reaches of the city began to go dark. Like a wave crashing upon the shore, the middle ring of the capitol followed. 

Then the darkness reached them. Everything, from the overhead lights to the circuits on their suits went dark.

For a micro, all was still. For a micro, all was silent. For a micro, the program that was Beck knew nothing.

But then...

**[Reboot initiated. Please stand by.]**

Awareness returned. The lights came back on. First the control room, the overhead lights flaring overload bright, then the streets below. Thousands of programs circuits lit up in unison, surrounding heaps of collapsed red-lined soldiers with their disks still out. It looked to Beck as if the entire population of the Capitol had come out to fight for their freedom, and they’d somehow won. The outer limits of the city came back online, the ambient light of the Grid somehow brighter.

He turned away from the window. Clu’s cubes still lay in the center of the room, but Tron now stood at the terminal with both his disk and Clu’s laying across it. Clu’s disk was finally going dim, but Tron’s glowed a bright, luminous white, the same white as the tower itself. Though his voice was clear, his eyes were dark, his shoulders slumped. Pushing himself to his feet despite the aches and pains beginning to surface, Beck walked over as Tron made his first announcement as System Administrator.

"Lay down your disks, programs," his voice boomed across the city, coming from every speaker that Clu had once used to broadcast his own messages, "It's over."

"It's over." Beck repeated only for their inputs. He smiled faintly when Tron turned to look at him, and as one they turned to look out the window. In the streets below, a roar had started up, louder still than the storm that was just now beginning to break apart.

No, not a roar. A cheer. Tens of thousands of programs filled the streets of the Capitol, disks in hand, and shouted in unison:

"Tron lives!"

With a frame rattling sigh, Tron closed his eyes. Beck reached out to steady him with a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tremble and the raw power in his frame now. Tron had taken on the mantle of System Administrator, wrenching control from Clu and saving the Grid itself, but even Beck could feel that he wasn’t the only entity in control now. Something in the Grid itself had changed, and hopefully for the better. Beck sighed quietly to himself.

The war was over.

It was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tens of thousands of people flood the streets; there are screams and church bells ringing. And as our fallen foes retreat, I hear the drinking song they’re singing:_
> 
> _The world turned upside down…_  
>  “Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down)” (c) Lin-Manuel Miranda, 2015
> 
> Because sometimes the right decision isn’t the easiest. Only a couple loose ends left to tie up, folks. We’re almost home. Epilogue next week; I always had one planned but the last minute polish spawned off another 5k+ words whoops?


	15. 00110001-00110101

“Almost ready?” Beck asked, startling Zed from where he was fiddling with something on his bike. Zed smiled at him, looking over the crowd of former Argon mechanics. Though more than one bore a long-term patch from the Uprising’s events, they had all pulled through. Even Link, timid as he was, had managed to make it through with his limbs and disk intact. He’d even gained confidence, Beck realized, watching him hold his own against Hopper’s now good-natured ribbing. Whatever the crew had gone through in Ferrum had been good for them. At his side, Zed nodded.

“Almost. Just waiting on Mara and we’ll head out.”

“You could stay here,” Beck said, crossing his arms over his chest, “There’ll be plenty of need for mechanics around here for a while.”

“Nah,” Zed waved a hand in the air, “Tron gave Mara Area-Admin access to Argon.” He smiled ruefully at Beck’s wide-eyed look. "We're gonna rebuild the city, and this time?” He raised a hand, one finger pointed to the airspace above them, “This time, it’ll have a Sailor port."

Beck blinked. Zed beamed at him. For a few nanos there was silent, and then neither seemed to be able to help it: they both laughed. A micro later, Zed tilted his head as their mirth subsided, “ _You_ could come with us, though. Go back to your root and everything; there’s always a place for you with us, you know.”

“I know, but…”

Beck looked over his shoulder at where Yori was speaking with Mara, Tron standing a pace behind his partner. He seemed taller now, somehow, standing even straighter than when he’d been healed. So much had changed in the last seven triples since Clu’s deresolution, but not everything. Despite his changed circuits, despite the broad command pattern splayed across his back and the nearly pure white color of each and every circuit, Tron was still Tron. Still steady, brave, and more reckless than he’d let on. Beck himself, however, had changed. He and everyone who’d known him before the Occupation had first come to Argon knew it. Somehow he still felt more at home here, tracking down lingering sentries and blackguard, then he ever had fixing bikes. Going back to the wreckage of Argon, even to rebuild it…he just couldn’t.

And so he shook his head, looking back at his old friend.

“I’m sure about this.” He said firmly. "I'm still needed here. But hey--" he reached out, patting Zed on the arm, "I'll come visit. Once you get that port going, we’ll be back and forth all the time.”

For a handful of nanos, Zed was silent. Then his eyes went soft.

“Yeah, you better,” He said, reaching over to pull Beck into a quick hug. They held on only for another handful of nanos, then pulled away from one another as Mara’s footsteps clicked behind them.

“Oh, don’t break up the moment on my account,” She said amusedly as they both turned to face her, her hands on her hips and new pattern of actual Command designation bright across her frame. It couldn’t match her smile as she continued, “Grid knows you two are going to missing each other the nano we leave.”

The two of them shared a look. Zed stepped back with both hands up in a defensive, _don’t look at me_ , gesture. Mara outright laughed at that, causing Beck to turn back around and give her a knowing look. She grinned, before her face went soft and she stepped into his reach. He didn’t hesitate and pulled her into an embrace, holding her close for just a few nanos. Her arms came up, one hand cupping the back of his neck.

“Take care of yourself,” He whispered to her. She nodded and pulled back, smiling as she held onto both of his elbows while he kept his hands on her shoulders. The transmission of [ _friend/trust/care_ ] was a loop from one to the other, and her eyes gleamed with amusement.

“I’ll be fine. It’s Zed and the others you should be worried about.”

“Hey…” Zed protested without any real heat. They both turned to him, still holding on to one another. He stared at them for a long nano, then shook his head. “This isn’t goodbye, you two. Not for good, anyway.” He smiled warmly and stepped over, arms outstretched. “Come on. One more for the road?”

Beck and Mara both laughed, but extended their arms towards him. He stepped in to the huddle, pulling them both close until they were shoulder to shoulder in a tight circle, foreheads brushing and hands clinging to anything they could reach. From the beginning, as far back as Beck could remember, they and Bodhi had been with him. Bodhi was long gone now, having left only the three of them, and now he had to let them go too. It hurt, an ache that caught in his core and made it skip, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

So he let them go, the first to break the huddle and pull away. Zed kept an arm around Mara’s shoulders, and both of them smiled sadly at Beck as he leaned back. 

This wouldn’t be the last time he saw them, he knew, but it still felt like it.

“Almost forgot.” He reached back, pulling a white baton from his secondary holster. Zed and Mara’s eyes both went wide as he held it up for them to see. “Tron wanted you two to have this.”

Mara reached out with trembling fingers, almost as if she was afraid just touching the baton would cause it to shatter. She jolted when Beck dropped it into her palms, before she closed her fingers around it and held it close to her chest.

“Able’s 786…” Her voice broke. Zed reached out to steady her with a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up. “Beck…”

He shook his head. “Keep it. He’d have wanted you to have it. Besides,” He smiled, “It goes with your new look.”

She huffed out a shaky laugh, but nodded before reaching for his hand. With one final squeeze of his fingers and a soft [ _friend_ ] she pulled back.

“Take care of yourself,” She said as she and Zed stepped back in one motion. Zed raised a hand to his head, giving Beck a two fingered salute and a warm grin, before the two of them turned away and strode into the crowd of mechanics. Beck raised a hand to wave goodbye as Ray and Bartik looked over at him, and he grinned as Mara cracked open the 786 to rez it onto the road, startling several of the Mechanics. The white code gleamed in the light of the capitol, the rev of its engine echoing through the streets.

If Beck had to say one thing about Old System code, it was that it knew how to work. Mara took off like a shot, Zed a nano behind her, and with a cacophony of thuds the others pursued. With a frown and a hard swallow, Beck dropped his hand back to his side. He stood there, watching as his old crew left him behind. That he had chosen this, that he knew it was the right thing for all of them, didn’t make his core ache any less. He startled suddenly, turning as Paige silently stepped up beside him, their shoulders brushing. Together they watched the convoy of bikes head out south across the Outlands, led by the bright speck of white that Mara was quickly becoming. Paige reached for his hand and he clasped his fingers around hers, never taking his eyes off of the bikes. They stood there in a soft yet easy silence, watching until the last of the bikes had disappeared into the darkness. Then she turned to look up at him, smiling just a little.

“Come on, _Tron_ ,” She poked his arm with her other hand as she began to turn her back to the Outlands, “We’ve got work to do.”

With a laugh, he let her pull him away, back into the city proper.

—-

A shadow walked through the capitol. The hum beneath Tron’s feet didn’t quite know how to classify it, or maybe he didn’t understand how to read that new note that buzzed through his heels. It caught in his core like a bad read; he rolled his shoulders, leaning in closer to Yori’s clear note as she read off a tablet to give him the latest news. Xenon and Thallium had both overthrown their hold-out Generals in the seven triples since Clu’s deresolution, the Basics herding up the soldiers and sentries into a warehouse on the outskirts of either city for quarantine.

He’d have to figure out a way to undo their repurposing somehow. Most of Clu’s forces had been security programs like his old team, and none had deserved their fates. Any of them still functional he would need to fix…somehow. He just wasn’t sure how yet. There was a lot to process in his new position, and no one to ask how to process any of it. Especially the constant hum and odd notes that kept ringing through his frame from time to time.

The discordant sound grew louder. He looked up, looking around for the cause. Beck stood on Yori’s other side, a steady tone even with the tense line to his shoulders as he listened to Yori explain that Radon and Ferrum had both completely destroyed their Occupation remnants, the streets glowing red with cubes and shattered disks. Beck had almost glowed with pride as he realized that meant his former coworkers had torn through their host city without a single injury or casualty, though Tron could see the sad edge to his smile anyway. 

Though the uprising had come to a relatively peaceful end, it hadn’t been without its costs.

And maybe one of those costs was Tron’s stability. The discordant note grew even louder, causing him to grimace and rub at his ears as if that would help. Yori paused in her reading, looking at him with concern written across her face, an odd addition to the soft sound that he’d come to attach to her, and on her other side Beck looked at him with a frown. He opened his mouth to reassure them, then stopped as a shadow moved from the alleyway behind Beck, approaching the young program’s back. Tron couldn’t move fast enough, not with Yori between them, but something must have shown on his face because Beck tensed up and turned his head sharply. Tron could see the moment he realized someone had been sneaking up on him, his tense figure loosening into a combat stance.

“Hey!”

He reached out, grabbing onto the darkness that wasn’t a shadow, but a cloak with all circuits turned off. In that same nano Tron pulled Yori back behind him; she shouted in alarm, her tablet clattering to the ground as she reached for her disk instead, drawing the attention of a dozen programs around them. Each drew their disks, watching as Beck grabbed the cloaked program with both hands and shoved them into the wall of the Admin Tower just behind the little group. There was a grunt as they impacted, Beck’s arm across the back of their neck.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” He asked in a surprisingly calm voice. For their part, the program coughed and tried to turn their head, the hood of their long coat just glimmering with a bright white interior circuit. Tron frowned. Bright _white_? While most programs still bore pale blue, white itself was only for those firmly on the side of the Users. Even his circuits still had the faintest hint of blue. But this…his eyes narrowed as the wall glimmered, fractal lines beginning to spread from where each of the program’s hands rested. His core lurched sharply to a halt.

“Flynn,” He breathed. Though he was unable to get enough volume for Beck to hear him past the growing murmur of the crowd, Yori turned suddenly wide eyes on him. Over Beck’s shoulder, Tron could just see a pale blue eye. Shocked, he couldn’t move as Yori stepped forward and placed a hand on Beck’s shoulder.

“Let him go,” She said, then glanced at the Creator, held there beneath the last program rezzed onto the Grid, “It’s alright.”

Beck frowned at her. He looked back at Tron, then at Yori once more. He inclined his head in wordless question; when she nodded, he frowned but stepped back, letting Flynn catch his footing and his breath with a cough. He didn’t, however, apologize. Nor did he move from between Yori and Flynn as Flynn turned around and lowered his hood. Instead, Beck stiffened and reached back to place himself firmly between Yori and the apparent reappearance of Clu.

Tron really was proud of him. Flynn, for his part, just seemed amused.

“Hey, Tron,” He coughed again, “Long time no see?”

“Very long,” Yori said, gently pressing Beck’s arm down. Beck turned to give her a wide-eyed look, but she shook her head and stepped up beside him. Beck turned to give that same look to Tron, but Tron only frowned. He couldn’t blame Beck for his confusion, or his wariness. Though Flynn had gained lines on his face and his hair had lost a good deal of its color, there was no way to miss the similarities between his face and Clu’s. Even so, Flynn’s smile was infinitely warmer as Yori continued, “We should take this inside.” She glanced at Tron, then over his shoulder at the milling crowd. Flynn shifted his weight, hands disappearing under his arms.

“Yeah…” Flynn sighed, “That’s probably a good idea.” He turned to the doorway into the Tower, only to stop dead in his tracks as the door wouldn’t open. The Admin Tower had once opened for all. In Clu’s cycle, he’d locked it to himself, his Honor Guard, and several of his highest advisors that were all now awaiting a way to shake off their repurposing.

Tron had locked it for the time being, allowing only himself, Yori, Beck, and Quorra non-escorted entry. He had to step forward to key open the door to let Flynn in and felt that wizened gaze on his back as Beck and Yori brought up the rear. The door closed behind the pair of them, keeping the crowd out. Tron stopped in the center of the former lobby, then turned to them.

“You two go and calm them down,” Tron gestured over Yori’s shoulder, the programs milling about just outside the door. Beck and Yori exchanged a look, unsure. Warmth uncoiling around his core, Tron offered them a tiny smile. “I’ll be fine.”

Neither seemed convinced. Again, Yori rested a hand on Beck’s arm for a nano before she turned away. The young program sighed.

“Alright. Ping us if you need help.”

Flynn almost seemed to laugh from where he’d stepped to the side, examining the lobby with the bearing of a program who’d been away from home far too long and no longer recognized it. Beck gave his back a frown before padding out after Yori; the doors opened more easily from this side, sliding open to let in the murmur of the crowd before sliding shut and taking the noise with it. Tron tapped his foot to the ground, darkening the glass before he turned to Flynn. Flynn had already turned back around, his eyes taking in Tron’s new circuits and the white glow of the tower around them. Then he smiled faintly.

“System Admin, huh?” Flynn whistled lowly, “That’s…impressive.”

“Someone had to step up,” Tron said coolly. Flynn flinched, lowering himself to sit on the arm of a couch. Tron looked at him, actually getting a chance to take in the face of an old friend. He could still remember what Flynn’s face had looked like five hundred some cycles ago, and now…

The cycles had gotten to Flynn, too. His face was more wrinkled, his hair a lighter color than before, and his eyes were tired. He rubbed at them with the pads of his ungloved fingers, shoulders slumped. Tron slowly lowered himself to lean against a couch opposite his old friend, but didn’t turn his back on Flynn. A micro, then two, ticked by before Flynn looked up.

“…Tron,” He said in a low, soft voice, “I’m sorry. You tried to warn me, but I…”

“Didn’t listen?” Tron sighed through his nose. Five hundred cycles ago, he _had_ tried to warn Flynn against Clu’s quickly growing power and dreams of destruction. Five hundred cycles ago, Flynn hadn’t listened. Torn between two worlds, Flynn hadn’t been able to cope or maybe even understand the cost his actions. For five hundred cycles, the consequences hadn’t been his to bear.

Or maybe, Tron thought to himself as he watched Flynn flinch hard and pull back a few millimeters, he’d had his own trials to face since the last time they’d spoken. Tron shook his head. This wasn’t a discussion he’d ever wanted to have. Not yet, at least; it still felt far too fresh to process. There was only one thing he wanted to do right now.

“I won’t say it’s fine. But…” He paused for a couple of nanos, turning his words over his in his processor, before he nodded. “I can accept your apology on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Flynn asked in a hopeful voice.

“That we get you home.” Tron stood up straight. Flynn blinked like a startled beta, then drew back. His skin paled as Tron continued, “Five hundred cycles is nearly ten of your world’s years, isn’t it?

“Over that…” Flynn whispered. Then he buried his head in the palm of one hand, fingers clutching at his scalp. “Sam…oh, Sammy…”

Tron’s core lurched hard. He gave Flynn a micro to try and compose himself, then began to step towards him.

“He’d be eighteen years old now,” Flynn said before Tron could speak up, “He wouldn’t look any older then your beta back there.”

“Beck.” Tron corrected in a more gentle tone than he thought himself capable of at that nano. Flynn looked up, eyes rimmed with red. His smile shook, bottom lip trembling.

“You found him,” Flynn breathed. Tron tilted his head.

“He found me,” Tron chose then and there not to mention Cyrus. Flynn wasn’t stable enough to handle that on top of everything else he was dealing with. “It’s because of him that we’re here. If it wasn’t for Beck, then…” He took in a deep, steadying breath. “I wouldn’t be here. Clu would still be in command. The Grid might be gone.” They owed him more than Tron would ever be able to say. Flynn seemed to realize this, and his eyes grew distant for a nano before he nodded. He swallowed hard, then slow took in a steadying breath of his own.

“And I guess I’d still be in the Outlands,” He said. He shook his head as if to shake off a thought. “But now we’re here, and we can work with that.” He took another breath. “I just need to get the Portal open again.”

“How?” Tron frowned, “You said it couldn’t be opened from here.”

“There…” Flynn grimaced, “Might be a way to get it open again, if I can get access to the terminal in the Access Station.” He smiled ruefully as he looked up. “Is it still intact?”

“Mostly,” Tron’s frown deepened. “The external facade took a hit during the Uprising but the inside looked alright—” He paused for a nano then looked Flynn dead in the eye. “You told me you couldn’t open it from this side.”

“And I can’t.” Flynn stood up, dusting his pants off. “But somebody from the outside can, and I know one guy who’ll answer the call.”

He couldn’t mean--Tron’s core lurched. Flynn turned a wry smile on him.

“How would you like to finally meet Alan-One, Tron?”

He meant it.

—

At the edge of the Capitol, far past where any program had any real need or right to go, was a long bridge over the Sea. Pillars of raw code floated above the churning blackness of the still viral waters below, the distant thunder reverberating off every one of them. The bridge itself led to a platform shaped much like the disks of the Old System, meant to harness the power of the Portal and serve as the User’s exit point from the Grid.

No program had been out this way in a very long time, said the stillness beneath Tron’s feet. For the past half milli he’d stood guard, watching Flynn continue to tap at a terminal that Tron had called up for him, listening to the crash of the Sea and the roar of the approaching storm, he could understand why. There was a certain weight to this place, one that he couldn’t bear the idea of carrying for long. 

It wasn’t meant for programs. This space was for the Users, and the Users alone. He couldn’t wait to get out of this space and leave it behind.

“So that’s where the Portal opens up?” Beck asked suddenly. Tron startled out of his thoughts, just now realizing the strong tone beneath his feet had come up again. Yori’s chime-like note followed, but Tron turned on Beck. Beck just smiled softly and shrugged as if to ask him, “What?”

"I thought I told you to wait with the others."

Beck huffed out a laugh, turning back to watch Flynn.

"Since when have I listened to what you tell me?" He snarked. On Tron's other side, Yori giggled. She waved a hand in the air when he turned on her.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just--" She smiled up at him. "He's just like you were at that stage.”

Tron grimaced. Yori laughed harder at him, not bothering to hide her amusement, and even Beck seemed far too amused for his own good. With a huff, Tron turned his attention back to Flynn. The User had stopped tapping away at the terminal, and now had his eyes on the airspace above his head. 

“Moment of truth,” Flynn said. Nearly a triple before, he’d managed to establish contact with his own world through a small binary string of code he’d once programmed to contact him within the Grid. Now all laughter stopped as up above them, the Portal slowly began to open. First, a byte of light appeared high above their heads. Tron watched with his core in his throat as the light expanded line by line, first in width, then in height. It touched the base of the platform with a solid-sounding thump and whump of air blowing at Flynn’s coat and Yori’s hair, casting everything around them into stark contrast. The high chime like note of untapped power, almost like static, rang through the Grid and buzzed up Tron’s spine. He shifted his weight to compensate, felt more than saw that Yori and Beck remained at his sides, and took a breath.

From within the Portal, a figure began to emerge. They wore a coat much like Flynn did, with User-white circuits stark against the black of the Grid’s render, and light gleamed off of spectacles on their face. A second note started up beneath Tron’s feet, the same discordant tone that Flynn carried, but somehow clearer, softer, less raw.

Alan-One, sang Tron’s core. He forced it down, watching as Flynn moved.

“Alan!” He shouted, and before Alan-One had even had a chance to properly step out of the Portal Flynn was on him, dragging his old friend into a breath stealing embrace. Alan-One nearly toppled but caught himself at the last nano, causing Yori to cant her head to the side. Beck shifted his weight as they all watched the pair of Users reunite after five hundred cycles. Before too long, the pair of them broke away from one another, and Alan-One cast his gaze around.

“My God…” He breathed, almost too soft to pick up, “This is what you were talking about?” Alan-One extended a hand, spreading it wide to encompass the Grid. “This is your Miracle?”

Flynn sagged, Alan-One’s hand still on his arm. Quorra, Tron knew, had refused to join them. Refused to so much as talk to Flynn in the triple since he’d reappeared in the Capitol and begun the process of leaving. He’d called the Isos his miracle, but the Basics weren’t them. Tron squared his shoulders as Flynn continued, “…Kind of. This is…” He shook his head. “It’s complicated, Alan. It’ll take days to explain.” He looked back over his shoulder at the three programs. His eyes softened slightly. Alan-One followed his gaze and went rigid.

“Flynn…is that supposed to be—”

Flynn stepped back. He spread his arms as he turned, as if to encompass everything all around them. Tron’s core lurched as one of Flynn’s hands pointed at him.

“Alan,” Flynn shrugged, shoulders up by his ears, “This is Tron, Yori, and Beck.”

It was like looking in a mirror of sorts. Tron could recognize his own face in Alan-One, the same nose, eyes, cheekbones. Alan-One’s hair was lighter, much like Flynn’s, and Tron wondered if that was an effect of User’s runtimes growing longer. Alan-One looked right at him, awe and understanding spreading across his face. Tron forced himself to stand his ground, to not drop to a knee and beg his User’s forgiveness for failing his directive, even if the game had been rigged from the start.

Alan-One looked from Tron to Beck, then to Yori, before his eyes went wide and he looked at Flynn instead. His jaw hung wordlessly open, eyes blown wide. Flynn shrugged himself higher, somehow looking like he wanted to pull his head into his body. Alan-One looked back to Tron then, staring for another handful of nanos before he took in a deep breath the exact same way Tron did and turned on Flynn.

“You have a _lot_ of explaining to do,” He hissed and grabbed Flynn by the arm. “Once I get you home to Sam.”

“Sam…” Flynn breathed. He looked up at the Portal for a long few nanos, then shook his head. He stepped back from Alan-One as Yori made a choked off noise in the back of her throat. Tron was too stunned to do even that: all that talk of opening the Portal, actually being able to open it and bring Alan-One here, and now he wasn’t going to leave?! Alan-One stared in equal shock as Flynn shook his head again.

“No, there’s things I need to do here. Things that I need to—”

“Your mother is in the hospital—Sam is seventeen and he needs his father!” Alan-One bellowed. Moving with a quickness Tron didn’t think possible from a User he grabbed Flynn by the collar of his coat with both hands and lifted him up, struck by a sudden rage. Beck stiffened at Tron’s side; Tron took an aborted step forward as the Grid buzzed beneath his heels, humming like a struck wire at the threat of violence between Users. “You can’t expect me to go back and tell him you’re fine but abandoned him by choice!”

Flynn opened his mouth, skin pale and feet nearly off the ground--

“Go home, Flynn,” Tron forced himself to say through a tight intake, startling them both back to the present nano. “Go back to your world. We can handle things here. Fix things ourselves.”

“Like we’ve been doing from the start?” Beck snarked quietly, voice trembling only a little as Alan-One set Flynn back down, the pair of Users staring at the two of them. Tron’s lips quirked upwards just a touch, but then his smile dropped as Flynn’s expression changed. His eyes were wide, wild with something Tron couldn’t quite name, something he didn’t quite want to name. He held his ground as Flynn shrugged away from Alan-One to step closer and spread his hands, reaching towards the three of them.

"I can fix everything!" Flynn spread his hands wide, "Make it all like it was before!"

Tron frowned. Behind Flynn, Alan-One watched with the oddest look on his face.

“How?” Tron asked.

“A system restore,” Flynn said, taking a step forward with his hands extended towards Tron, “It probably won’t bring the Isos back, but everyone else—they’ll all be here again! Everyone you all lost, like nothing ever happened!” He laughed a little. It sounded like Clu. Tron forced the thought down as Flynn continued, “Heck, it’d be exactly like that! Just like rolling back the clock!”

Tron looked to Yori for a nano, unsure. She frowned back at him, opening her mouth to say something.

"We won't remember anything that happened." Beck said suddenly. Everyone looked at him, but his eyes were on Flynn and Flynn alone. "If you turn back the system clock, you'll erase our memory, too."

Tron looked back to Flynn. The User grimaced, shrugging slowly.

"Not on purpose?"

"Flynn..." Alan-One groaned into the palm of his hand. Beside Tron, Beck shook his head and stepped back out of reach. 

"No." He said firmly, "You don't get to do that." He frowned. "Creator or not, you weren’t here when we needed you. You don’t get to swoop in now that it’s over and just erase everything we’ve gone through.” He looked at Tron, then put a hand to his chest where both had nearly had the mark carved right off of them. “That makes you no better than Clu.”

Flynn flinched hard. He stepped back, away from Beck’s hard stare as if it were some physical thing, and looked to Yori instead. If he hoped to find any support or softness there, he’d be sorely disappointed. Tron watched with no small measure of pride uncurling in his core as she slashed a hand through the air before Flynn could even speak.

“Don’t try and say you’re not,” She turned that slash into a single finger pointed at him, “Clu was formed from you, Flynn. Your ideas, your thoughts, your core. You may have given him a bad directive, but you were still his User.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That connection goes both ways, you know.”

Flynn’s grimace only got deeper. He looked like he’d downed a whole canister of bad energy. Yori sighed.

“Besides, it’s out of your hands now.” She tilted her head. “You’d need Admin level access to enact that kind of a change, and you don’t have it anymore.” She looked up at Tron with a faint smile. “She’s already chosen a new System Administrator for herself.” Her smile disappeared as she turned back to Flynn, gaping at the pair of them like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing or hearing, and leveled him with a look so hard it would have broken Outland stone. "I think you should go home, Flynn. You have a life out there."

"Damn right he does." Alan-One took Flynn by the arm, pulling him back to the Portal despite his protests. Then Alan-One stopped for a moment and looked back at them. He locked eyes with Tron.

“I’ll take care of things from the outside,” He said, “If there’s anything you need, then…just leave a message. It could be a while.”

They would be on their own, said the look in Alan-One’s eyes. How that would be any different from the past five hundred cycles, he just didn’t know. Still, Tron nodded in acceptance of this fact. Then he looked to Flynn one more time. Flynn looked back at him with beseeching eyes, wordlessly begging for a chance to stay, a chance to set things right the way he should have, the way he thought he could. 

To Flynn, he shook his head. Flynn’s shoulders slumped: he understood precisely what that gesture meant and stopped struggling in Alan-One’s grasp. Tron watched, with Yori and Beck on either side of him, as Alan-One stepped into the glow of the Portal with Flynn at his side. The three programs watched as the two Users raised their disks into the light and vanished into voxels, carried away out of the Grid and back to their world. What would happen to them now, Tron couldn’t say. A large part of him really didn’t care.

The rest hoped Flynn would find some measure of peace the same way that Tron had. He looked at Beck from the corner of his eye, taking in the frown curved across the young program’s face. Flynn had to face his own offshoot now, his own beta. How Sam would react to Flynn’s return after the last five hundred cycles, Tron did not want to know.

Still, he hoped it would go well. It would be nice if something did.

The light ahead of them flickered, drawing Tron’s attention back to the Portal. With the Users now on the other side, one of them must have begun to sever the connection between User World and Grid. It shrunk in on itself first, losing all width until it was only a handful of pixels wide, and then began to dim and collapse in on itself in a spot high above their heads. Tron reached for Yori’s hand, and she clasped her fingers around his as the once steady beam of light became only a single, luminous byte in the airspace above them. They all watched, wordlessly, as the byte hung there for a few nanos.

Then, without any fanfare, it winked out as if it had never existed at all. All that remained was the crash of the sea beneath them, the wind all around, and the soft, peaceful hum of the Grid beneath Tron’s feet.

For perhaps the last time, Users had left the Grid.

For perhaps the rest of their runtime, the programs were alone.

——

Nearly six hundred cycles after he had been exiled, Tron looked over the city that shared his name and breathed in the peace. Flynn was gone, spirited away to the User World for Alan-One to handle. Clu was gone, unable to harm anyone anymore. Though there were still soldiers left to repurpose, the surviving programs were safe now. There was even talk that a handful of Isos had survived, and with Quorra’s help were settling a small colony deep within the Outlands.

It wasn’t a total victory, marred by setbacks as it was, but against all the odds they had made it. The Grid hummed beneath his feet, not quite strong and healthy, but more vibrant than She’d been in too long. It was comforting.

It made things easier. Peering down at the disk mod in his hand, he contemplated. Was there even a need for this anymore? Programs had proven that they could defend themselves. They didn’t need any watchful guardians looking over them from above.

Or maybe they did. Clu’s words echoed in Tron’s processor, a warning and a threat in one. Were they just words? Or had he truly meant what he’d said? Without being able to ask him it was hard to tell, and yet…as much as he should have, Tron simply wasn’t ready to cross that bridge yet. Not after everything that had happened. Maybe he never would be. Maybe he’d leave handling any more threats to Alan-One.

Maybe. For now, he was content with things as they were. He looked from the mod to the window, Beck’s reflection drawing closer as the young program walked over from the lift, footsteps quiet in the early milli silence.

“Thought I’d find you up here.” Beck said quietly, coming up to stand beside Tron. “You’re really fond of heights, aren’t you?”

With a soft smile, Tron nodded.

“Something like that. Here—” He passed the disk mod to Beck. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

“Plug it in. You’ll see.”

Beck frowned, but his eyes were light. “You know, the last time you gave me something like this, we ended up overthrowing an Occupation. What’s next? The User World?”

“Beck.”

Beck almost laughed, but instead of plugging the mod directly in, he activated it first. Tron smiled ruefully; at least he’d learned that much. He watched as the mod display flickered to life, a new suit render all ready to go.

“This is…”

“It’s yours. If you want it.” He looked away, glancing back over the city and trying not to watch Beck’s reflection in the glass. He didn’t want to see him say no. “We…never talked about what you would do. When this was all over.”

“Tron…” Beck whispered, looking at his mentor. The young program was silent for a moment, then took a deep breath as he inclined his head. “Well, if you thought you were going to get rid of me, we really should have had Alan-One scrub your code.”

Tron looked over. Beck was smiling at him.

“You’re staying.”

“I’m staying.” He said, clicking the mod onto his disk and returning it to his port. The new pattern washed over him, thicker armor with subtle flecks of aqua at every joint, and a bright white tetromino flaring to life just below his right shoulder joint. Not a perfect match, but an inheritance all the same. It settled with a final flare, and Beck tilted his head.

“So,” he asked, “What now?”

“Now? Now we start your training back up.” At Beck’s groan, Tron tried not to laugh. He turned away from the window, clapping Beck on the shoulder and giving his protege a fondly warm smile. “You’ve got a long way to go before I’m done with you.” Beck smiled back, inclining his head.

“Alright, fine. Just tell me one thing.” He paused for a nano, then grinned. “Do I get time off this time?”

Tron laughed.

“What do you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roll credits. That’s a wrap, I am done! Almost three years after the idea first struck and a full novel worth of words later, Liberation is finally complete. Where Disney intends to take Tron, I don’t know, but this is an ending I can be proud of and so I thank you all—my readers, those of you who followed, faved, kudosed, reviewed, and kept coming back week after week, thank you. And a big gigantic thanks to my lovely Chalahandra, without whom this never would have become the monster it is; you’re the best, palemancer. <>
> 
> Any questions? Hit me up here or on my tumblr (same name as here) and I’ll answer. That said, there is one question to address: will I write a sequel? Probably not. I originally had an idea to bring back the Abraxas Virus from Evolution, but found that it made things far too shoehorned in. Rest assured, Changelog will feature Liberation!Beck and Tron meeting Sam, but a full sequel? Nah. Not this time. It’s time to put this story to bed.
> 
> End of line.

**Author's Note:**

> Cold open? Cold open! Welcome, readers, to Tron: Liberation! With the cancellation of Ascension, and the rumored reboot of the franchise, I've decided to try my hand at a continuation of Uprising. Please note that this is just how I think it would go, and is nowhere near canon. In fact, I throw good bits of Canon right out the damn window and replace them with my own. This'll be an interesting ride, I'm sure.
> 
> Barring life crises, this fic will update weekly. I currently have five chapters completed with more in the pipeline, so I shall see you next week! Any comments, questions, or concerns, feel free to leave them here, at FFN's crossposting (same username as here) or hit me up on my tumblr (saratogaroad there as well, with anon asks on if you don't have or want to use an account) and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.


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